Hellhound On My Trail
by Bluenose
Summary: A harrowing case pushes an already fragile Lindsay towards her breaking point. Title by Robert Johnston, my first CSI:NY fanfic. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

-1Hey Folks,

This is my first CSI:NY story, so be nice to me, please!

I own nothing to do with CSI:NY, and song quotes in this chapter are taken from 'Hellhound on my Trail' by Robert Johnston.

Please, read and review. Thanks

**Chapter One**

'_There's a hellhound on my trail_

_Hellhound on my trail_

_If today was Christmas Eve_

_If today was Christmas Eve_

_And tomorrow was Christmas Day_

_Wouldn't we have a time, baby'_

_**24th December, 0600**_

"Who found her?"

"Guy walking his dog." Flack gestured at the steps of the church, at a man sitting there, sucking greedily on a cigarette, his hands shaking, talking to a young detective. "Ali's talking to him now. Doesn't look like we'll get much from him, though. He's kind of shook up."

Flashes of light cut through the early morning darkness.

Danny Messer crouched over the body, focusing the camera. He snapped another picture and then stepped back. "I tell you, Mac, this guy is getting worse. This is the fourth victim we found in the last ten days."

"I'm going to talk to Ali, see if she's got anything from the witness."

Mac nodded and sat his case down, shivering in the cold wind. He glanced up at the clouds, lingering above them, heavy and bruised. "What have we got from the victim, Danny?"

"Her name's Lucy Carlson. She's twenty, student at NYU." His mouth tightened, and he clenched his fist. "Same as the others. I swear to God, Mac…."

"Focus, Danny. Process the victim. Maybe he got sloppy, made a mistake, gave us something we can use."

"Multiple knife wounds on the body. Sonofabitch chained her up, raped her and let her bleed out." Danny shivered, staring at the body. Slumped on the ground, against the stone cross, her arms chained to the arms of the cross, the pale skin stained crimson by the wounds, long jagged cuts into the skin. "Just the same as before."

One shoe off, her bare foot, oddly innocent and vulnerable.

Her eyes closed, safe at last, at peace.

Her clothes sliced and torn, soaked with blood.

"Mac. I got something." Hawkes stood up, holding something carefully in his gloved hands. "Looks like her shoe."

"What do we do now?"

"Get the body back to Stella at the lab, tell her to run anything she can find against the computer, maybe we'll get lucky. Then process the graveyard." He glanced up at the heavy clouds again, fighting against the urge to shiver. "Work quickly. We don't have much time before that snow comes."

"Mac. Where's Lindsay?"

He shook his head, lifting his case. "Don't ask me questions that you already know the answer to, Danny."

"She's gone to see him, hasn't she?"

XxxXXXxxx

_Reikers Island_

"You know the drill, Detective Monroe. I need you to turn your weapon in here."

She handed her weapon across the desk, blindly signing the paper the officer thrust underneath her nose. Crossing her arms across her chest, shivering, waiting. She had been dreading this, ever since the letter had arrived.

"Now don't worry, Detective. You wont be alone in there with him. There'll be at least one guard in there at all times and we'll be watching on the monitors…"

"No." Her voice didn't shake and she was proud of that. "No. He asked to speak to me. He wont make me afraid of him."

"I strongly recommend…."

"It's not your decision, Warden. It's mine."

"Aaron Reiners is a very dangerous man, Detective Monroe. He killed a number of young girls…"

"I know how dangerous he is, Warden. I worked the case."

They stopped outside a closed door, and Lindsay stretched out a hand to open it.

"You don't have to do this, Detective. Chances are, this sick sonofabitch just wants to mess you about, make you think he knows something he doesn't."

"I can't take that chance, Warden." She opened the door of the room and walked in.

Inside the room, she closed her eyes, her small frame seeming to fold in on itself, her hands buried in her pockets. Trying to forget what had happened, what it had taken to put this man behind bars. Waiting for a killer.

She didn't wait for very long.

The door at the far end of the room opened, and Reiners was led in by two guards. His eyes lit up when he saw her, huddled at the far end of the room. "Well, well, well. Detective Monroe. I wasn't sure if you were going to come or not."

At the sight of him, she pulled herself together, drawing herself up. "Hello, Aaron."

He smiled, the same twisted, dark smile he had been wearing when her evidence had put him away. "Could I get a cigarette?"

The guard shook his head. "No."

"Then take me back to my cell. I don't talk to no one unless I get a cigarette."

Lindsay's patience snapped. "Will you give him a damn cigarette?" She drew a shuddering breath as the guard fumbled in his pockets, putting a packet of cigarettes and a book of matches on the table. 'Control, Lindsay, control'. "Will you leave us alone, please?"

The guards shrugged and walked out of the room. She walked over to the table, her heart racing.

She remembered what this guy had done. Six girls, and that was just the ones they knew about. Six girls killed, raped and tortured in cold blood. Six girls that had haunted her sleep since she had processed the first scene.

When had it gotten so damn cold?

Aaron lit a cigarette, the acrid smell of tobacco filling the room. He blew a smoke ring up into her face, still smiling. "Wont you sit down, Lindsay?"

Even standing, she was barely taller than him. "It's okay. I'll stand."

"If you don't sit, I wont talk. And I know, you're just dying to hear what I have to say, Detective Monroe." He pointed at the seat opposite him with his cigarette, the faint cloud of tobacco smoke following it like a ghost. "Sit down."

Slowly, reluctantly, she sat down, knowing that it put her within his reach. Knowing that it emphasised his height, knowing that she had given into him, given him control of things already. "Talk."

He laughed, leaning forward, smoke spewing from his mouth with every word. Instinctively, she leaned back, trying to get away from him.

"Do you sleep at night, Lindsay?"

XxxXXXxxx

_October 3rd 0600_

"This makes four." Flack's voice echoed around the empty church, stripped of emotion and passion, stripped of life.

Like them all, he had been to too many similar crime scenes recently.

Lindsay didn't answer, staring at the girl slumped against the altar, her arms covered with jagged knife wounds, blood pooled around her, soaked into her clothing. Robotically, she snapped the picture.

"Same MO?"

"Looks like it." She moved around the body. "White girl, early twenties." Another photo. "Multiple knife wounds." Another photo. "Body chained to an altar. Clothing rearranged."

She spoke in sharp clipped sentences, not allowing herself to think. It was easier that way. Easier than thinking about another young girl that she had failed.

"Did he rape her?"

She didn't answer, staring at the girl's face, the camera held aimlessly in her gloved hands.

Flack tried again. "Lindsay. Did he rape her?"

"No panties. Heavy bruising on the inner thighs. We'll not know for sure until later, but I'd say so." She stepped back from the body, eyes narrowing in concentration. Looks like she put up a fight. We got some defensive wounds here." She reached into her kit and knelt next to the body. "Who is she?"

"We don't know yet. Ali's trying to find out."

"Where's Danny?"

"He's outside, processing. Maybe the sonofabitch slipped up, left us something we can use." Flack glanced at her, concern evident in his eyes. "He's going to slip up, Lindsay. Sooner or later. And when he does, we're going to get him."

**End of Chapter One.**


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, thanks a million to every one that read and reviewed. Hope you all enjoyed Chapter One. Song Lyrics in this chapter are from Robert Johnston 'Crossroad Blues'

**Chapter Two**

**_24th December, 0630_**

"Not exactly the way I'd planned to spend my Christmas Eve."

"I'm sure it wasn't the way she'd planned to spend hers either, Sid." Her words came out sharper than she had intended and Stella crossed her arms, shivering in the chill atmosphere of the morgue. This shouldn't be happening, not now. They'd already caught the guy that did this. Lindsay had caught him

At least, they thought they had.

Sid looked at her, his expression momentarily pained. "No. I'm sure it wasn't." He stood up, connecting his glasses across his face, hiding behind the thick lenses. He stared down at her, brushing her pale cheek gently with a gloved hand. "Poor girl."

"Sid." Stella shook her head, her curly hair hanging limp about her shoulders. "This isn't the time. We need to figure out who is doing this. What have you got?"

"Not much." Sid cleared his throat gruffly, moving away from the table. "She bled to death from numerous knife wounds. I counted about eight, none of them particularly deep, but all deep enough to make her bleed out." He disconnected his glasses, looking at his feet, worrying his forehead with his long fingers. "He raped her before she died."

"Just like the others." She heard how cold her voice sounded and hated herself for it. But it was the only way she could keep her focus. "You get anything from the body?"

"Nothing much." He reached onto the tray and tossed her a small, sealed evidence bag. "Just that."

"Nothing much." She held it carefully, staring at it. "Where did you get that?"

"Inner thigh." He leaned back against the tray, smiling sadly. "I don't think it's hers."

"At least we got something to work with. Thanks Sid."

"Go get him, Detective."

XxxXXXxxx

"You get anything from the guy that found her, Ali?"

Ali Convery, Flack's partner since the end of the summer shook her head. "Only that he smokes like a train when he's nervous." She shook her head. "I thought we got this sick bastard, Don. I thought we had him."

The Reiner Case had been her first in Homicide

"So did I." Flack stepped back, out of the conversation as Danny walked into the precinct house. He looked worn out and cold, just like the rest of them. "Hey, Danny. Where's Lindsay?"

"Didn't you hear? She went to see Reiners."

"She went to see Reiners? Why?"

"Bastard asked to see her."

"Sonofabitch." Flack clenched his fists, his eyes dark, fighting to control his temper. "Why did Mac let her go? Doesn't he know what he put her through the last time?" He took a deep breath, his voice low and shaking. "We should go over there, Danny. You and me. See how he likes getting fucked with."

"You, me and that piece of shit in a locked room." Danny smiled grimly. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

"No!" Ali shook her head. "We cant do that, Don. We cant play him like that. We got to do this right."

"You saw what she was like last time, Ali. You know how he got under her skin, what he put her through. We cant put her through that again. It'll break her."

"Yeah, I know. But we go over there, tune him up, and he slips through cos of that?" Ali shook her head. "We cant put her through that. We just got to see what way this plays out."

XxxXXXxxx

_Reikers Island_

"Do you sleep at night, Lindsay?"

She saw herself, reflected in his eyes, small and insignificant, drowning in the fire and darkness she saw there.

"I sleep just fine."

XxxXXXxxx

_October 3rd_

"You were a fighter, anyway."

There was no one else in the lab, but Lindsay spoke aloud, the sound of her own voice comforting her. Keeping the ghosts that haunted her away.

"No one else has put a fight yet. We think he caught them all by surprise. Or maybe he knew them. But you, you put up a fight. You hurt him. You got us something, something we can use to catch him."

Carefully, Lindsay lifted the samples out of the evidence bag, scanning them into the computer. She turned away while it worked, stripping off the protective gloves, rubbing at her dry, burning eyes, weariness settling across her slender shoulders.

She hadn't had a full night's sleep since the second victim had been found. Poor girl had cut grooves into her wrists trying to break the lock.

That was the first night she had dreamed. Absently she rubbed at her wrist, her thumb brushing across the small cut on the inside of her wrist. The cut she had made, trying to claw herself free from the chains.

She needed to catch this guy.

XxxXXXxxx

**_24th December, 0630_**

_Reikers Island_

"I sleep just fine."

Her voice came out, breathless and small, weak.

"Really?" He leaned forward, and before she could stop herself, she moved back, her breath quickening. "All that time, all that effort, all that it cost you to put me away. All those nightmares. Did you stop the killings?"

She shook her head, caught and held by his burning eyes.

"Did you stop the nightmares?"

XxxXXXxxx

'_Standing at the crossroad, babe_

_Rising sun is going down_

_Standing at the crossroad, babe_

_Rising sun is going down_

_I believe to my soul now,_

_Poor Bob is sinking down'_

xxxXXXxxx

"We get anything from the witness."

"Nothing, Mac."

He made a mark on the whiteboard. "What about from the scene?"

"It matches the MO of the previous killings." Danny took a mouthful of coffee, grateful for its warmth. "Other than that, as much as we got from the previous ones."

"In other words, nothing."

Danny shook his head. "Not a thing."

"Okay." Mac thought for a second. "Flack, you and Ali talk to Lucy Carlson's friends. Maybe someone had been hanging around her recently, or an old boyfriend. We need a break, see if you can get it."

"You got it, Mac."

"Danny, you and Hawkes work with Stella. Work through the evidence from this scene, cross reference it with the previous victims." He sighed heavily. "Any questions? Then get to work."

XxxXXXxxxx

_Reikers Island_

"No."

He lit another cigarette, blowing a smoke ring out towards her, watching it hang in the stale air between them. "You still dream about it, don't you?"

"No."

"Ah come on Lindsay." Aaron chuckled darkly. "We know each other too well for that sort of shit." He leaned forward, pinning her in place with his burning gaze. Trapping her in her seat.

Chaining her there.

Her wrist throbbed.

"Am I still in there, Lindsay? Do you still wake up in the middle of the night, screaming?"

**End of Chapter Two**


	3. Chapter 3

-1Hey,

A huge thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. Hope you all enjoy Chapter Three.

Oh, Jim Steele is a character from Conviction I'm borrowing for this chapter.

**Chapter Three**

_December 24th 0745_

"Stella, what have you got for me?"

"We might have got a break here, Mac. Sid pulled this from the latest victim." Stella handed him the small sealed bag with the hair inside it. "I put it through the computer, thought maybe we might get a hit of it."

"And did we?"

"No such luck. We did get something though. The killer is a white male, aged 25-30, with dark hair." Her confidence seemed to slip away, leaving her exhausted, drained. "It's not much, though is it?"

"No." Mac stared at the vague results on the screen, seeming to mock him. "But it's a start. At least we got something to work with."

"I'm going to start going back through the latest victims. See if we missed anything the first time."

"Good idea. I've already got Danny and Hawkes working on it. I'll let them know what you found out."

"I'll get on the phone to Flack, tell him to see if any of the victims knew anybody that matched the description."

"It's a long shot, but it's worth a try." Mac shrugged. "Good work, Stella." He turned and walked towards the door of the lab.

"Mac. Wait. Have you heard anything from Lindsay today?"

"No. Should I have heard anything from Lindsay today?"

"Ah come on, Mac. I know where she is. I know she's gone to see Reiners."

"Fine." His shoulders seemed to slump, leaving him looking beaten and broken. "Fine, she's gone to see him."

"Shouldn't one of us be there? Back her up a little?"

"We can't do that Stella…."

"Come on, Mac. You can't ask her to go through that again." He looked away, reluctant to meet her eyes. "You are going to ask her to go through that again. You asked her to go see him."

"I had to, Stella. He knows something about these homicides, and he's only gonna talk to Lindsay. I had to do it."

"She's just a kid, Mac."

"No, she's not."

XxxXXXxxx

"I just cant believe she's gone." Laura Johnston daubed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Are you sure its her?"

"I'm afraid so, Laura. We found her purse and her student ID at the scene." Ali took the girl by the arm, leading her over to the seat. She sat down next to her. "Do you feel up to answering a few questions?"

"Okay. If it'll help catch the bastard that killed her."

Ali glanced at Flack, who shrugged and started to walk around the room, staring at the photos pinned to the wall and mirror. It was always hard, always strange to see a homicide victim when they had been living and breathing.

He kept seeing an image of them afterwards, when he met them, after the life had been snuffed from them like a candle.

"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Lucy?"

"No." Laura shook her head. "Every one loved her."

"Anyone with a grudge against her? Old boyfriend maybe?"

"No. Nothing like that." She thought for a second. "Wait, there was this one guy. Almost seemed like he was stalking her. Kept turning up at parties, and her lectures, nearly everywhere she went"

"What did he look like?" Ali pulled out her note pad, pen hovering over the page

"White guy, dark hair, maybe thirty. He liked to dress younger than he was. He hung around with us for a while." Her face fell. "I just thought he was trying to hook up with her."

Flack pulled the photo off the wall, holding it out to her. "This the guy?"

"Yeah, that's him!"

"You got a name for him?"

XxxXXxxx

Danny reached out, lifting one of the crime scene photos, squinting at it through his glasses. "Sick bastard."

"I know." Hawkes sighed, staring at the photos and evidence arranged on the table in front of them. "Mac said he wants us to go through this, see if we can find anything linking a dark haired man to any of the other victims."

Danny sighed, glancing at the clock. "I guess we'd better get started then."

"I guess we'd better." Hawkes stared at the photos, remembering the trial and its aftermath. "Have you heard from her?"

"Who?"

"Lindsay."

"No. Why would I?" Danny's phone started to ring, loud and jarring in the silent lab. He pulled it out of his pocket, staring at the number on the display. "Shit. I better take this." He pressed the answer button. "Hey, sweetheart, how you doing?" He glanced at Hawkes, and walked away from the table. "No, I'm stuck at the lab still. I don't know how long I'm going to be. No…" He shook his head, glancing at Hawkes, who hurriedly looked back at the table. "I guess I'll be there when I'm there, okay? Bye." He hung up and walked back across the lab. "Where were we?"

"Just getting started. Who was that?"

"No-one."

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island_

"You think I still think about you, after I locked you up?" Lindsay leaned across the table, her mouth curled in a dismissive smile. "I'm a cop, Aaron. I've dealt with worse shit than you."

XxxXXXxxx

_October 13th_

The knife, slicing across her exposed flesh with exquisite tenderness, drawing bloody red lines across her pale skin. And then the pain rushed in, dancing across her nerves, her world narrowed to the edge of the blade, drawing on her skin. She drew breath to scream…

Lindsay sat up in bed, her skin damp with sweat, gasping for breath. She ran her hand through her dishevelled hair, trying to control her breathing, shivering in the cold October air.

Her nightmares were getting worse.

Then she realised that the ringing phone had not been part of her nightmare. She snatched it off the cradle. "Monroe." She heard how raspy, how dry her voice sounded.

"Lindsay, it's Flack." She heard him pause, hesitate before he continued, and she knew what he was going to say long before he said it. "We got another one."

XxxXXXxxx

"You okay, Monroe?"

"I'm fine, Danny." She didn't look at him, concentrating on the scene, on another girl, tortured and murdered by a bastard they couldn't catch. "Just tired."

"Maybe you should go back to the lab." Danny jerked his head in the direction of their car. "I got this,. You handle the lab work."

"I can do my job, Danny." She flinched at her words, at how sharp they sounded. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. Lets just get to work, okay."

"Hey guys." Ali Convery walked over to them, her shield prominently displayed on her overcoat. She looked tired as well, worn out. "Victim's name is Jessica Mullins, 24. Boyfriend reported her missing when she didn't come around to see him tonight."

"How's the boyfriend looking?"

"Pretty solid alibi. Don's talking to him now."

Lindsay started to circle the body, the poor girl, slumped in agony, her arms twisted, bent out of shape by the chains he had used to restrain her. "Poor girl." The sudden flash of Danny's camera, blinding in the darkened room, brought tears to her eyes and she turned away, blinking rapidly.

"I count, ten, fifteen cuts on this poor dame. I guess he lost control on this one. Maybe we'll get lucky on this one."

Another flash, sudden and bright.

"Danny…" He looked up and she pointed…

….at the bloody handprint, left on the wall, almost invisible against the dark wallpaper. If she hadn't turned around, just as the camera flashed, she might never have seen it.

"We just got lucky."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th _

"I'm sorry, Detective Taylor. I cannot reveal who has visited Aaron Reiners."

"Warden, the man is a convicted killer. He's talking with one of my detectives now about a number of other homicides. We think this new killer may have visited him at Rikers."

"I understand that, Detective, but I cannot reveal the information. His lawyer got a court order suppressing all information regarding visitation to Aaron Reiners."

"Warden, this is ADA Jim Steele. I have a subpoena here requiring the release of those records, signed by Judge Hayden. I can have a copy with you in twenty minutes by fax. Now will you release those records?"

"As soon as that subpoena is there, you can have your records. I'm sorry, Detective, my hands are tied."

Mac hung up. "Sonofabitch."

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island_

He looked shocked for a moment, then sat back in his chair, laughing. "Very good, Detective Munroe. Very good." He lit another cigarette, still laughing to himself, amusement still dancing in his eyes. "I'm glad you haven't lost your spirit yet. I'm sure he likes that."

"Who?"

"That detective you're screwing. You are screwing him, aren't you Lindsay?"

"You said you had information, Aaron. Talk. Otherwise I'm walking out of here and you can rot in hell for all I care."

"You wont catch your killer if you walk out of here, Lindsay."

"We will." She leaned across the table, resisting the urge to rub at her wrist. "I caught you, didn't I?"

He started to laugh again, smoke billowing around his face.

**End of Chapter Three**


	4. Chapter 4

-1Hey guys,

Thanks a million to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. You guys rock!

**Chapter Four**

_December 24th 0845_

_Rikers Island_

"You think you caught me, Lindsay?" Aaron's shoulders shook with amusement as he stubbed out a cigarette, blowing smoke out through his nose. "You didn't catch me, Lindsay."

"You're in jail, Aaron. You're doing six consecutive life sentences. The only reason the judge didn't stick a needle in your arm is because of your lawyer." Lindsay sat back, folding her arms across her chest. "Yeah, I think I caught you."

He shook his head, his face still twisted in a dark grin.

She wondered how those girls had felt, lost and helpless, caught in the malevolence of that grin.

"You're nothing now, Aaron. All you can do is sit there, try and get under my skin. It wont work, you bastard. You're going to rot in here" She smiled, cold and brittle, wondering how he liked being laughed at.

"You didn't catch me, Lindsay." He looked away from her, dismissing her as he lit another cigarette. "I gave myself to you. I let you catch me"

She felt her blood run cold. "You're lying."

"I planted that evidence." He held up his hand, smiling. "Let me tell you, that much blood is a bitch to get off your hand."

xxxXXXxxx

"Mac! You got a minute?"

"Sure." Mac waited until Flack caught up with him "What did you get from the victim's roommate?"

"Seems like Lucy Carlson had an admirer. A particularly persistent one as well." Flack flicked through his notebook. "This guy turned up all over the place, parties and lectures. Seems like he couldn't take no for an answer."

"You got a name for him?"

"Jacob Crozier."

"Does he fit the evidence?"

"With the photo that Laura Johnston gave us, yeah he does." Flack closed his notebook, tucking it back in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Ali's just running him through BCI, see if he's got a record."

"Good." Mac felt the weight starting to lift from his shoulders. "Jim Steele has subpoenaed Reiner's visitation records. You and Ali go pick up Crozier, I'll start going through the records when we get them, see if we get something to link the two together."

"Will do." Flack walked out of the Crime Lab, looking for his partner. His spirits felt lighter, the Christmas decorations, usually so out of place amidst the death and crime in the lab, seemed brighter, normal, a gleam of hope for the future.

Maybe they had done enough to spare her from anymore of Reiner's mind games. He'd already broken her once. It had taken him, them, so long to put her back together.

Maybe they'd just got the break they needed.

XxxXXXxxx

Danny stared at the collection of evidence, spread out on the tables in front of them. Evidence of six lives, snuffed out by Aaron Reiners. "This guy is one sick bastard."

"Tell me about it." Hawkes frowned and lifted one of the photos. "Hey, Danny, did you see this?"

"What?" Hawkes handed him the photo and Danny stared at it a second, then started to shake his head. "Oh no. Tell me we didn't miss that."

Hawkes nodded, his eyes scanning the table, the photos laid out on the table. "Yeep we missed it." He lifted another photo, seemingly at random. "They don't look alike enough to put a flag up straight away. It's only when you see them all like this."

"Shit. Shit. He's going to kill us."

Hawkes reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Call it in the air, buddy."

"For what?"

"Loser tells Mac." He balanced the coin on his thumb. "Call it."

"Heads."

Hawkes spun the coin up, snatching it out of the air, and slapping it on the back of his other hand. He uncovered it and smiled. "Tails."

"Shit."

xxxXXXxxx

_October 14th_

Flack walked into the interrogation room, kicking the door shut behind him. "You want a coffee?"

"I want to speak to my lawyer."

Ali smiled as Flack handed her a coffee and pulled out a chair to sit next to her. "Seems like Aaron here thinks he shouldn't be here."

"Is that right?"

Dark eyes met blue ones through a haze of cigarette smoke. Aaron Reiner smiled around the half smoked cigarette, his mouth twisted, arrogantly, lazily. He blew smoke towards them, the air filled with the bitter acrid smell of tobacco. He didn't answer, letting his twisted smile speak volumes.

This was the guy.

This was the guy that had raped and killed, tortured 6 young women, before he'd made a mistake. This was the guy that had crawled into Lindsay's head, wormed under her skin, the guy that made her wake screaming in the night.

His face twisted, his body tense with the anger, with the desire to send Ali out of the room and beat a confession out of Reiner, Flack leaned across the table. "Let me tell you what we know, Aaron. We know you killed those girls. We got your fingerprints from the last scene. We can link you to the other victims. We got you, you bastard."

Ali pushed a photo across the table, a photo of the body of the last victim. "Still think you shouldn't be here, Aaron?"

"I want to speak to my lawyer."

XxxXXXxxx

"We got him, Lindsay."

"Has he confessed yet?"

"Not yet, but he will. We got him over a barrel. The prints, he doesn't have an alibi, he's speaking to a lawyer, and they'll try and plead it out." Ali stopped outside Lindsay's building, glancing up at the darkened windows. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just going to have a shower, crawl into bed. Night, Ali."

"Night, Lindsay."

Ali walked off, and Lindsay climbed the steps towards her building, fumbling in her pocket for her keys. She heard footsteps, dress shoes echoing in the silent street. She paused, concentrating, ignoring her keys, her hand creeping towards the gun holstered on her hip.

Arms snaked around her waist, pulling her back against his body, his lips brushing against her neck.

"Hello, Detective. What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"You get anything yet?"

"Nothing yet." Mac turned another page in the visitors book. "Doesn't look like anyone's visited Reiner other than his lawyer."

"What about your suspect?"

Mac shook his head. "Not so far." He scanned down the page and turned it over, his finger tracing the lines of names and signatures, looking for Jacob Crozier's name on the list of visitors.

XxxXXXxxx

Flack knocked solidly on the door. "Jacob Crozier? NYPD, open up please." He knocked again, looking around the apartment building, the dull, dreary walls, the paint cracked and peeling.

A man walked around the corner, coming to a dead halt when he saw Flack.

"Jacob Crozier?" Flack took a couple of steps towards him, and the man turned and ran in the opposite direction. "Ali, we got a runner!" Flack took off after him, their footsteps loud in the silent apartment building.

Crozier darted around the corner, skidding as his feet slipped from under him, pushing himself up.

Ali Convery, smaller and quicker, slammed into him, knocking him against the wall, holding him there, her arm pressed against the back of his head, until Flack could slip the cuffs onto him. "Why do they always run?"

"Cos they all got something to hide." Flack grabbed Crozier by the cuffs, dragging him away. "Lets move, scumbag." He smiled at a neighbour, who opened the door to see what the commotion was, stunned by the sight of her neighbour being dragged off in handcuffs by NYPD, her hand covering her mouth. "Merry Christmas, ma'am."

**End of Chapter Four**

_Please, read and review. Thanks!_


	5. Chapter 5

-1Hey guys,

A huge thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. I really appreciate it. Thank you all so much!

**Chapter Five**

_October 15th_

He stayed awake, watching her as she slept. He wanted to be there, wanted to be awake if she needed him, if the nightmares came back and woke her. He knew all about the dreams this bastard had given her, all about the times she had woken in the night.

He liked to be there, with her, there to protect her while she slept. Keep her safe. He needed to keep her safe. Safe from whoever, from whatever was haunting her dreams.

And while he was there, she was safe, protected. She could sleep, free from the nightmares that seemed to haunt her when he wasn't there.

He ran his hand down her arm, watching as she smiled, even in her sleep. He smiled too, leaning forward to kiss her head through her hair, the smell of her perfume lingering in his senses.

He wished he could be there all the time.

He stayed awake, watching her as she slept.

xxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"Tell me about Lucy Carlson." Flack didn't look at Jacob Crozier, toying with his coffee cup, staring at the desk as he asked his questions.

"I don't know any Lucy Carlson."

Ali pushed the photograph across the table towards him. "This Lucy Carlson." She tapped the photograph. "The one you were obsessed with. The one you stalked. The one you killed."

Flack lifted his coffee cup, smiling grimly. "Still say you don't know any Lucy Carlson?"

"It wasn't like that."

"So what was it like?"

"We were friends."

Ali raised her eyebrows. "That's not what her friend says."

"Which friend? Her roommate? That bitch always hated me." Jacob's lip curled in a sneer, a fragile veneer of bravery over his fear. "Thought that she was too good to hang around with me."

Ali leafed through the folder. "You got a temper, Jacob?"

He shifted, uncomfortable in his seat, unwilling to meet her eyes. "Sometimes. When I drink, sometimes…." His voice trailed away and he shrugged.

"You ever loose that temper when you'd been drinking around Lucy?"

"What? No! I didn't do anything to Lucy! I didn't hurt her!" His eyes, wide and frightened darted between Ali and Flack. "I swear to God, I wouldn't do anything to hurt her."

XxxXXXxxx

"How are they doing in there?"

Mac looked around, away from the glass at the sound of Stella's voice. "Okay." He hesitated for a second. "Listen, Stella. I paged Lindsay, told her that we had a suspect in custody and to wait until she heard from me." He shrugged, an apology for sending her to Rikers in the first place. "I didn't want Reiner to get too much time alone with her."

"You're going to have to tell her to go back in." Stella handed him the page and he glanced at it, frowning.

"It's not him."

"I'm sorry, Mac. DNA doesn't match up. It's not him."

"So we're back to square one." He handed the results back to her. "No suspects and no evidence."

And a killer obsessed with one of his CSIs.

"Maybe Lindsay will be able to get something from Reiner." Stella tried to smile, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry Mac. I know you would have spared her this if you could. I wish I had better news for you."

"We go where the evidence leads." He sighed heavily. "I better go tell Flack to kick Crozier loose." He opened the door to walk out of the room, almost colliding with Danny as he tried to come in. "Danny?"

"Mac, got something for you." Danny laid the photographs out on the table, Stella and Mac crowding in behind him. "Me and Hawkes went through the old evidence and we came up with this."

"Oh my God."

"They all look like…" Mac's eyes flicked to the window of the interrogation room. "Have you told him yet?"

Danny shook his head. "We were hoping you'd do that."

"Me?"

"Yeah." Danny grinned ruefully. "He'll only try to kick my ass if I tell him."

XxxXXXxxx

_October 15th_

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Oh yeah?" Flack sat down opposite him. "That's too bad shit head. You're going to have to talk to me."

Aaron Reiner smiled, gesturing with his cigarette, the tip gleaming faintly in the darkness. Flack wondered how many of those he had smoked since they had arrested him. "See, I know it wasn't you that caught me."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah." Aaron leaned across the table. "You see, I know a little about the way you guys work. It was a CSI that found that evidence. I want to talk to the CSI. I'll tell her everything that you guys want to know."

He sat back, his face twisted in a dark, malevolent grin.

Despite himself, Flack shivered.

XxxXXXxxx

"I'm Detective Munroe." Lindsay pulled out the chair and sat down opposite Aaron Reiner. "You wanted to talk to me."

"So you're the one that caught me." Reiner smiled, as he lit another cigarette. The ashtray on the table between them was filled with butts, the room cloudy and full of the acrid smell of his tobacco. He studied her for a second, then sat back, smiling to himself.

"Something funny, Aaron?" Her voice was cold and brittle. Angry.

His smile twisting, mocking, he shook his head.

"You said you would tell me what we needed to know. So talk. Tell me about those girls."

"In a bit. An answer for an answer, Detective Munroe." He shrugged. "Otherwise I stay silent, and plead insanity. I've talked with my lawyer, he seems to think that any reasonable jury can be persuaded to accept that view. And my lawyer is very, very good."

They needed this. Needed him to confess.

Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded. "Okay. An answer for an answer."

He smiled, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray. "How have you been sleeping, Detective Munroe?"

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"You okay, Stella?"

She turned at the sound of his voice, forcing a smile that did little to ease the lines of weariness and stress on her face. "Yeah, just needed to get some fresh air."

"You worried about her?"

Stella laughed, the sound fragile in the early morning chill. "Of course I'm worried about her. I'm worried about her, about him, about the team if we cant catch him. About what we might do to catch him."

"We already caught him, Stella."

"Do you really believe that, Mac?"

"Yeah. Aaron Reiner got under her skin and he's trying to keep on playing his game." Mac tightened his fist, his eyes blazing with anger. "And I'm not going to let him break her again."

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island 1000_

She put her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. Taking another moment to pull herself back under control, scrubbing at her eyes, at the dark rings surrounding them. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, walking into the room.

"It wasn't him, was it, Lindsay?"

She paused, her hand on the back of her chair. "What?"

"The man you had in custody, the man your colleagues thought was the killer, it wasn't him, was it?"

"No."

"Mac Taylor called you out of the room, while they interrogated him, so you wouldn't have to talk to me." He laughed bitterly. "Do you remember when we met, Lindsay? Do you remember what we played?"

She pulled out the chair, sinking slowly into it, nodding. "An answer for an answer."

"An answer for an answer." He leaned forward, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "I'll tell you what you want to know, if you tell me what I want to know."

An end to this, to this nightmare. To her nightmare.

"Okay."

He smiled and she knew that she had given him the answer he had wanted from her. She should have walked away when she had the chance. But now she was trapped, pinned by his dark eyes, lost in the haze of cigarette smoke. "How long have you been sleeping with him, Lindsay?"

**End of Chapter Five.**

_Please, Read and Review!_


	6. Chapter 6

-1Hey guys,

Once again, a huge thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. It's fantastic to know that people are actually reading and enjoying the story.

**Chapter Six**

_December 24th_

She thought, briefly, about lying to him. She hated giving in to him like this, about giving anything about her, about them to this monster. She wanted to hold onto the memories of them, keep them pure, keep them hers, rather than let Aaron Reiner get his bloodstained hands onto them.

Aaron watched her through the haze, his eyes glinting with amusement at her discomfort. "An answer for an answer, Lindsay. Otherwise the game ends and I walk out of here. How long have you been sleeping with him?"

"Since September." The answer, torn out of her like blood from a wound. "We've been together since September."

"Since September." Aaron sat back. "It's a nice time to fall in love, isn't it Lindsay? The end of the summer, just coming into the fall. New York is beautiful in September, always my favourite time of the year. I remember…."

"I answered your question, Aaron." Her voice was cold. She wouldn't show any weakness in front of him, couldn't show any weakness to him. She owed it to his victims to be strong. "Now its my turn."

"Ask away." Aaron stubbed out his cigarette and lit another one, filling the room with more smoke. "I've got nothing to hide. Not from you, Lindsay."

"Who is the killer? Who are you using on the outside?"

Aaron started to laugh, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

"Aaron? Who is it?" She felt her temper to start to boil, her fragile control starting to snap. She was tired of him, tired of him laughing at her, tired of him hiding in the corners of her dreams. "Answer me, damn you! Tell me who it is!"

With an effort, he brought his laughter under control. "That's not the question you want to ask, Lindsay. That's the question that you think Mac Taylor wants you to ask, isn't it?"

How did he know her so well? How could he read her so easily?

"Yes."

"Ask the question that you want, Lindsay."

"Why me?"

He smiled, the same smile that she saw in her nightmares, the same smile that woke her when she slept alone. "I liked the way you looked when you are frightened."

"I'm not frightened of you, Aaron."

"Yes, you are."

XxxXXXxxx

"Fuck!" Flack slammed his fist against the locker door. "How the fuck did we miss that, Mac? All this time we've been hunting this bastard, and that's been looking us right in the face and we fucking missed it!"

"I know, Don. All I can tell you is I'm sorry. We messed up."

"How'd we miss it?"

"I don't know." Mac sighed. "I asked Danny and Hawkes to go through some of the earlier evidence and they noticed it when they looked at the victim's photos."

Flack uncurled his fist, hissing a breath through his teeth as pain flared through his knuckles. "We let this bastard get under her skin, let him fuck with her head. We let her down. I let her down."

"We've got a break, though. We know what his victim profile is, we know how he chooses them. We can catch him, Don. We will catch him."

"I let her down, Mac." He stared at his hand, slowly curling it into a fist, wishing that he had Aaron Reiner there, that he could take his anger and frustration out on the bastard that had hurt her. "I let her down."

"You were there when she needed you, Don. I know that, so does she. You couldn't protect her all the time."

"I should have known, Mac." He slammed his fist against the locker again, ignoring the pain. "I should have seen it. Dammit, Mac, I should have seen it. Me, Ali, you, Danny, Stella, one of us should have seen it..

"I know."

XxxXXXxxx

_October 18th_

She hated being alone in her apartment.

When she was alone, **he **started to appear. In the shadows, cast by the furniture, in the fabric of the curtains, caught in the October breeze, hiding, waiting for her to let her guard down…

And when she tried to sleep, he was there, waiting for her, his face twisted in that same malevolent grin.

"Stop it! All you're doing is frightening yourself."

She looked at the bed and shivered. She knew that there was no way she was going to get any sleep. Not now, not until he came home.

She hated feeling so weak, so frightened. She was a detective, a CSI. She shouldn't be so weak.

She snatched the comforter off the bed, wrapping it around her shoulders, padding barefoot through the apartment. She settled down on the couch, pulling the comforter tighter around her slender body, switching on the television, using it, using the noise to drive away the shadows and the darkness.

Watching the clock.

Waiting until he came home and she could get some sleep, safe from him and the dreams he gave her.

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th 1045_

"You okay?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that?"

Danny shrugged, smiling ruefully, shivering a little in the early morning chill. "I heard you tried to beat the shit out of a locker door."

Flack shrugged, flexing his fingers, ignoring the stabs of pain coming through the joints. "Needed to do something."

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know, Danny." Flack's form seemed to crumble, his shoulders starting to slump under the strain. "God help me, I don't know if she's okay. I don't know how she keeps going. I don't know where she finds the strength."

Not knowing what to say, Danny put his hand on Flack's shoulder. Flack had always been so strong, so protective, so…in control. It was strange to see him this close to losing control, strange to see this display of fear and emotion, strange and frightening.

"We'll get him, Flack. I swear to God, we'll get this bastard, and we're going to nail him to the nearest wall."

"I don't know how much more she can take, Danny. I don't know if she can take any more of this."

"Don?"

Hastily, Flack pulled himself together, turning away from Danny, turning to face his partner. "Yeah?"

If Ali saw the marks of his struggle, the depths of his emotions on his face, she didn't call attention to it. "We got a call."

XxxXXXxxx

"What have we got?"

Stella looked around. "Just working through the evidence from the Carlson case."

"We got anything to go on?" Hawkes came to stand next to her, looking at the photographs spread across the table.

"It's the same knife as he's used in the previous killings." Stella illuminated the wounds, hacked into Lucy Carlson's body. "Same depth on the wounds, same curve, same…" Her words trailed away and she stared at the photos, shaking her head.

"It's just so hard to treat this like just any other case."

"We have to. If you let this get to you, get under your skin, you're no use to Lindsay or to us."

"I know." Hawkes took a deep breath, forcing himself to concentrate. "What do you want me to do?"

"Mac has a list of the people who have been to see Aaron Reiners in Rikers Island. Go through that, see how many of them had contact with Lucy Carlson."

"I'm on it."

XxxXXXxxx

_October 22nd_

He sat at the small table in his cramped cell. Ignoring the sounds, the smells of the prison around him. Turning the biro through his long fingers, concentrating on the page in front of him. Thinking about her. About her face, the way she carried herself, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled at him.

The way she bit her lip when she concentrated.

The way she died a little more inside, with every new scene he left for her to discover.

His CSI.

He licked the tip of the pen with a flourish and started to write.

_Detective Munroe,_

_Can I call you Lindsay? Detective Munroe seems too formal, especially for everything that we have shared…._

**End of Chapter Six.**

_Please, Read and Review._

_Thanks!_


	7. Chapter 7

-1Hey Guys,

Once again, thank you so much to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. I hope you keep enjoying the story.

Oh, Jim Steele is a character from Conviction, and James Sinclair is a character from NYPD Blue. I'm borrowing both for this story.

**Chapter Seven**

_December 24th_

"Are you okay?"

He slammed the passenger door of the car closed behind him. "It's not me they should be worried about, it's her." He shook his head, punching his leg in frustration. "How did we miss the photos, Ali? It was right there, right in front of our fucking noses."

"Maybe you should go home."

He glared at her, his blue eyes dark with anger. "I can do my job, Ali. I don't need you to baby sit me."

"I know, it's just…" This had not gone the way she had planned it. "It's almost Christmas, and its your first with her. You don't to go through tomorrow with this on your mind. You don't want her to go through tomorrow, thinking about this."

Thinking about Aaron Reiner.

"Sonofabitch." He got out of the car, his movements taught with anger and frustration, with barely controlled rage.

"Don?" Ali hurried after him, the chill December wind whipping about them like a madman's laugh. "Don, where are you going?"

"I'm going to go see that sick bastard." He stopped, turned, pointing at her, that old familiar gesture she had come to know so well. "Stay here, Ali."

"Don…."

"Stay here. Don't get in the middle of this."

He walked off, towards his own car, leaving her standing alone. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, dialling quickly. "Come on, come on, pick up."

The phone was answered on the second ring. "Messer."

"Danny, it's Ali. I spoke to Don."

"And?"

"Not good. He's gone to…"

"He's gone to Rikers to see Reiner, hasn't he?"

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island 1115_

"My turn, Lindsay." Aaron stubbed out his cigarette, the ashtray filled almost to overflowing with his butts. He blew the last of the smoke out of his mouth, studying her through the haze. "Why him?"

The question caught her by surprise. "Why him?" She frowned, trying to look around it, trying to see what his angle was, how this let him twist the knife a little more. "Why him what?"

"What attracts you to him?" He turned the lighter through his hands, tapping it lightly against the table with every motion. "And I don't mean any of this 'oh he's so cute, he's got such a great ass' bullshit." His voice rose, turning shrill and mocking. "That's not you, Lindsay. You're smarter than that. You look for more than that."

Why him?

"He makes me feel safe."

XxxXXXxxx

_October 25th_

"Linds?" He shut the door of her apartment behind him, moving quietly and carefully through it. "Linds? Are you awake?"

The apartment was dark and silent, apart from the flickering lights of the television screen, the low rumble of applause and conversation coming from whatever show she had been watching.

She was asleep on the couch, wearing one of his old shirts. She looked so small, so delicate, so fragile, lying there, wearing a shirt that was far too big for her, drowning her slender body, his aftershave still clinging to the fabric, creating the illusion that he was there with her, protecting her.

He knelt next to the couch, running his hand gently down her arm. "Linds?"

She awoke with a start. Seeing only a large frame looming over her, vulnerable and exposed on the couch. Two darkly gleaming eyes, hot and hungry, glaring down at her, pinning her in place.

Knowing it was too late, she started to twist away, expecting to see the gleam of the knife reflected in the dull glow of the television set. Expecting to feel its razor edge, slicing across her skin, cutting deeply into her flesh, drawing those exquisite, terrifying, horrible, agonising patterns onto her body.

How long would he keep her alive before he killed her? What would he do to her?

"No, please…"

"Linds." His hands reached out, catching hold of her arms, his fingers digging into her skin through the shirt. Holding her tightly enough to leave bruises on her arms. "Lindsay, it's okay, you're safe. It's me."

Recognition flooded through her, the terror replaced by relief.

"Oh God." She flung her arms around his neck, kissing him with a desperation born of fear and desire. "Oh, God, please…Don…"

Love me. Hold me. Don't let me go. Keep me safe.

Her walls crumbling, falling to dust around them.

"It's okay, Linds." He cradled her in his arms, her face pressed against his chest, his shirt (his clean shirt, the one he had only put on that evening when he had started his shift) streaked with her tears. "It's okay. I got you. I aint gonna let anything happen to you. You're safe."

I'm not gonna let you go.

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

They clung to each other, seeking comfort in their shared grief. Choking sobs, ripped from their souls, cut and stained with blood and sorrow.

Mac gave them as long as he could, a voyeur to their grief. Then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have to ask : is that your daughter?"

Unable to speak, Mr Carlson nodded, looking away from the body illuminated beneath the harsh morgue lights. His wife couldn't look away, her attention focused on her daughter's battered body.

He pressed the speaker button. "Sid, can you turn if off, please?" He swallowed hard. He'd always hated this part. "I realise this is a bad time, but if you're up to it, I've got a few questions for you. They might help us catch "

"I cant do this." Her voice rose, choked with tears. "I cant do this. I cant see my baby like this."

"Certainly, Mrs. Carlson, I understand." Mac signalled at a uniformed officer. "Officer Gellar will take you outside, and get you some water or a cup of coffee."

Mr. Carlson kissed his wife's temple, watching as Officer Gellar guided her out of the room. "I hope you know who did this, Detective Taylor. I hope you know who killed my little girl."

"We're following a number of leads."

"In other words, you've got nothing." Mr. Carlson bit back on a snort of laughter, rubbing at his eyes with a shaking hand. "Some bastard killed my little girl and you don't have a clue who did it."

Carlson's eyes flashed with grief and anger, and Mac had to bite back on the sudden flash of his own temper. On the sudden flash of his own guilt, that he deserved this man's anger. That he had let Lucy Carlson down, that he had failed her.

That the Crime Lab had failed her.

"We're following a number of leads, Mr. Carlson. I promise you, we will find the man that killed your daughter."

XxxXXXxxx

Danny was sitting on the hood of his car, waiting for him, parked at the side of the road approaching the Rikers Island Bridge.

"Hey Flack."

"Ali called you, didn't she?"

"Yeah she did. Said something about her partner going crazy and going somewhere he knows he shouldn't go. Something about him doing something really fucking stupid."

Despite himself, Flack grinned. "How the hell'd you get here before me?"

Danny shrugged. "Cant give away all my secrets can I?" He hopped down from the hood, walking up beside Flack's car. "Ali's right, though. You cant go in there, go riding to her rescue. It's not what she needs."

"It's what I need."

"It's what he wants you to do. You go blundering in there…"

"I'm not going to go blundering in anywhere…"

Danny ignored him. "You go blundering in there, you give him what he wants, you leave her open to him, you give him all the cards. You hear what I'm saying, buddy?"

Flack sighed heavily, staring longingly at the bridge, stretching into the distance, arching above the water towards Rikers Island. "I hear what you're saying."

XxxXXXxxx

_November 1st_

"All rise, in the matter of State of New York vs. Aaron Reiner, the Honourable Judge Loughery presiding."

"Jim Steele, for the State."

"James Sinclair for Mr. Reiner."

"How does the defendant plead?"

Sinclair shifted, uncomfortable. "My client does not wish to enter a plea, at this stage, Your Honour. He wishes to stand by a confession he made to Detective Lindsay Munroe of the New York Crime Lab."

Aaron Reiner started at the mention of her name. Turning in his seat, so he could see her. She looked different, dressed for court, uncomfortable in a trouser suit, sitting in the front row behind Jim Steele. He preferred her when she was dressed to work in the field. She looked more comfortable, at home, in her element.

His CSI.

And his game had only just begun.

**End of Chapter Seven**

_Please, Read and Review!_


	8. Chapter 8

-1Hey Guys,

Thanks again for all your reviews and kind words. I really appreciate them.

Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

**Chapter Eight**

_1st November_

It had taken him so long to write this letter. Every phrase, every word had to be perfect, had to keep her emotional wounds raw, open and bleeding. Had to remind her of what he had done to her.

Had to keep her off balance, unable to find her feet.

He reread what he had written, the noise of the prison fading into the background, lost in the world he had had created. A world of just him and her. Hunter and hunted. No one else, nothing else mattered.

"Hunter and hunted."

He grinned a little at the term, appreciating the way it rolled across his tongue. He wondered which she would see herself as, which she would see him as.

He started to write, his pen flowing across the page.

_Did it make any difference, Lindsay, when you arrested me? Did it help you to sleep at night, you and your lover? Do you still wake, in the middle of the night, thinking about me and what I've done?_

_You didn't think I knew about those dreams, did you?_

_I saw you, today, in court. _

_You looked tired, drained. Frightened. Always glancing over your shoulder, alone and wary. Why did he leave you alone with me, Lindsay? Does he believe that I couldn't get to you, couldn't hurt you if I wanted to?_

_Are you frightened of me, Lindsay? Is it me that frightens you, or what I did? _

_You should be frightened of me, Lindsay. I am dangerous, I am a monster, I am everything that Jim Steele said about me._

_You are safe, though, Lindsay. I swear to you, I wont touch you or harm you in any way._

_The game is much more fun with you in it. _

_And it's my move._

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"How did the they take the news about their daughter?"

"How do you think they took it?" Mac shook his head. "Not well." He sighed, trying to push aside memories of their grief, becoming a cop again. A cop desperate to catch a killer. "We get anything more from the scene?"

Stella shook her head. "Nothing more than we expected. I matched the wounds to the previous victims. It's the same weapon. I have Hawkes working through Lucy's friends, seeing if anyone has access to that type of knife."

"I'm thinking about pulling Lindsay out of the room with Reiners."

"Why?"

"He's just taunting her, Stella. He's not going to give her anything." His voice softened. "I don't want to give him the chance to get back under skin. She deserves better than that."

"He's already had that chance, Mac. You have to see this through. You have to trust her that she knows what she's doing."

"I know." He sighed again, ducking underneath the Christmas decorations, colour seeming leeched from them, mocking the dead, mocking their failure to catch this killer. "I just wish they could have got through tomorrow without having to go through this."

"I know."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th 1200_

"Dr. Hawkes."

He looked up, smiling. "Well, well, well, Detective Convery. Don't often see you down this way."

She smiled, stopping in front of the table, evidence and photographs scattered across its surface. "I know. I just thought I'd stop down, see if you had anything for me to chase down."

"Where's Flack?"

"He had some things to take care of." She shifted, uncomfortably. "I'm flying solo at the minute."

Hawkes looked up, his eyes quick and alert through his glasses. "These things, they wouldn't involve Aaron Reiners, would they?"

"Can I plead the Fifth on that?"

"Explains why Danny was in such a rush to get out of here." Hawkes looked down at the table. "What about Lindsay?"

"I haven't heard anything from her yet."

XxxXXXxxx

_November 1st_

"You okay?"

Lindsay blinked, startled by her voice. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

Ali lifted her beer, staring at her, her dark eyes unblinking, searching her. Eyes fixed on her like a cop, rather than a friend. "You've been distant all night, Lindsay. Is something wrong?"

"Just got a few things on my mind."

"A few things like you and Don?"

"No." She shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's just, this case, this…"

"The Reiners case? But we've got him." Ali tilted her bottle in salute. "You got him and the sonofabitch is going to go down for a very long time. That's if Steele doesn't go for the death sentence. Not even James Sinclair is going to be able to get him out of that."

She wanted to tell her.

Wanted to tell her about the dreams, about the nightmares. About the way he appeared in her dreams, his twisted smile, mocking her, mocking how long it had taken them to catch him.

"He killed six girls, Ali. He killed six girls without leaving us anything to go on. And we catch him because he left a bloody handprint on the wall? It doesn't make sense. It's too easy."

Ali shrugged, taking another mouthful of beer. "He made a mistake, Lindsay. They all do. They make one mistake, and we put the pieces together, and we can catch them."

"Do we? Do you really believe that?"

"I have to. We have to. You have to. Otherwise, it's going to linger in your head, and drive you fucking crazy."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"Two more." Danny signalled at the bartender, then turned on his stool. "How are you holding together?"

"Better." Flack wrapped his hands around the beer, idly tearing little pieces from the saturated label. "Thanks man. I needed someone to talk some sense into me, stop me doing something really fucking stupid."

"It's okay." Danny tossed some money on the table, lifting his own beer. "You any plans for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Flack laughed bitterly. "I haven't even thought about tomorrow yet. Just want to get today over and done with, take her home and….try and forget about that bastard for a while." He fell silent, staring at the bottle. "What about you?"

"Supposed to be going for dinner." Danny shrugged. "Don't know if that's gonna happen now, though."

"Why her, Danny? Why'd that bastard pick her?"

Danny sighed, pushing his glasses up, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know, Flack. I guess he saw something he could pervert, destroy."

Something innocent, something beautiful, gone, destroyed for ever.

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island_

Aaron smiled at her through a haze of cigarette smoke. "What was the first thing you argued over?"

She thought back, through the clouds of smoke and blood, through the darkness. "About telling people. He wanted to tell everyone about us. I wanted to keep it secret for a while."

"Why?"

"That's a second question, Aaron." Her own smile turned cold, an almost perfect, mocking copy of his own. "It's my turn."

He laughed as he stubbed out his cigarette. "You've learnt to play this game, Lindsay. The first time we played, you would have spat out that answer before you had a chance to stop yourself." He lit another cigarette. "Ask your question."

"Who are we looking for?"

"I'm not going to tell you his name Lindsay." He blew a stream of cigarette smoke into her face. "That would end the game too early, and I'm having too much fun."

He leaned forward, looming over her, the smoke clinging, hovering around them. She wondered how long she would have to scrub her skin, scrub her soul, until the scent of smoke and death would be washed from her.

"You're looking for a friend of mine. One that shares my interests."

**End of Chapter Eight**


	9. Chapter 9

-1Hey guys,

Thanks again to everybody that has read and reviewed so far. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

**Chapter Nine**

"Convery."

"Ali? Ali, it's Lindsay. Where's Don?"

"Lindsay, he…ehm…he just had to step out for a minute. Something to do with the case. Anything I can do?"

"Reiners gave me something."

"Yeah?"

"He told me to look for a friend of his, someone that shared his interests. Can you pass that onto Mac? It might give him some thing to look for."

Ali heard her draw a shuddering breath, her control torn and ragged, tottering on the brink. Almost falling. Almost broken, shattered by the Aaron's grin, by the smell of his cigarettes, by the darkness in his soul.

Again.

"Lindsay? You okay?"

"Yeah. I just need a moment. I have to go, Ali. I have to get back in there."

"You're going back in there? Lindsay, walk away. Let us chase this down. I'll go get Don, we'll find this friend and…"

"He might have more for me, Ali. I wont risk him walking away from this." Her voice hardened. "I wont let him walk away. I wont let anyone else die because of him."

"Lindsay…."

"I have to go, Ali."

The phone went dead. "Shit. Stubborn fucking people…they're as bad as each other. Of all the fucking stupid things…"

Hawkes glanced up from the table. "Problems?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. Reiners gave Lindsay something." She smiled suddenly, her eyes glinting. "Do you feel like a trip?"

"Where to?"

"Reiners' apartment. Lets see if we can find this friend of his."

Hawkes nodded. "I'll let Stella know."

XxxXXXxxx

Stella knocked on the door of his office. "You get anything?"

Mac glanced up, his forehead creased with concentration and frustration. "Nothing so far." He rubbed wearily at his eyes. "Nothing but James Sinclair." He shook his head. "I don't even know what I'm looking for."

"Lindsay phoned Ali. Reiners gave her something."

"Really? What?" It didn't take much to revive Mac's spirit. The lines eased from his forehead, the weariness, gone, replaced by eagerness, his enthusiasm for the hunt restored, his eyes bright and hungry.

"It's a friend of his, or someone that shares his interests. Ali and Hawkes are going to chase it down."

"I'll get back to this." Mac lifted the visitors book, his attention focused on the names, concentrating, almost forgetting that she was in the room.

"Where's Steele?"

"His boss phoned. Said she needed him on another case."

"You want a hand?" She waved a hand at the pages of visitor logs. "Going through all that?"

He looked up. "You sure? What about the evidence from the scenes?"

"Come on, Mac. You know we're not going to get anymore from that. We've done all we can there. We need more than that, and the only place we're going to get it is if we find a name in that list."

"Stella…."

"I need to keep busy, Mac." Her voice softened, almost breaking. "I need to keep busy."

"Okay."

XxxXXXxxx

_November 3rd_

He lifted the phone and pressed his hand against the glass. "Hello. I've been waiting for you. I hoped you'd come tonight."

"Hello, Aaron." His visitor pressed his hand against his on the glass, their palms separated by the thickness of the glass. "I stayed away as long as I could, just like you told me. But I had to come tonight."

"Did you use your real name?"

"Of course I didn't, Aaron. You taught me better than that."

"Good." Aaron smiled and nodded, his eyes alight with a paternal glow. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? There can be no mistakes, no turning back, not once you start. One step on this path, and you must follow it all the way. You can turn back now, and I can wait until you are ready."

"I'm ready, Aaron. I swear it."

He held his gaze for a second longer, then nodded. "Good. You'll do well."

"Thank you."

"Have you chosen one?"

"Yes. You should see her, Aaron, she's beautiful." He leaned forward, his eyes dark and malicious, seeming to glow with barely contained lust and anger. "She looks just like her, too. She's perfect."

"Good."

"I wish you could see her."

"I will see her." He took his hand off the glass and tapped it against his temple. "I'll see her in here."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th 1300_

"Nice place." Hawkes ran his hand along the book case, tracing the titles with a gloved finger. "This guy is obsessed."

"I know. You should have heard some of the shit he was yelling when we arrested him. Then, by the time we got him back to the House, he was ice cold, started asking to talk to Lindsay." She paused. "That shit with the photos. We should have seen it then. I should have seen it then."

"We all missed it. You can't blame yourself for that."

"Don does." Ali pulled open the drawer of a desk with more force than was necessary, searching through its contents with her gloved hands. "He thinks I should have seen it. I should have seen it. It's my fault that she's in that room, letting that bastard play his games with her."

Her voice trailed away, and she slammed the drawer closed, pulling open another one.

"What are you looking for?"

"An address book or a diary or something like that."

Movement at the door caught her attention and she looked up, her hand dropping automatically to the gun holstered at her hip. Hawkes followed her gaze, stepping to the side, out of her line of fire.

A young man stood at the door of the flat, wrapped up well against the chill December air, glaring at them, his eyes dark and flat. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm Detective Convery, NYPD and this is Dr. Hawkes, from the Crime Lab. We're looking for…"

"I know who you are, Detective. You and your partner arrested Aaron Reiners. Why are you here?" He took a step towards her, and instinctively Ali moved from behind the desk, giving herself room to move, thumbing the catch, placing her hand on her gun.

"What's your name, sir?" Hawkes spoke softly, breaking the tension, drawing the man's attention to him.

"Zeke. Zeke Michaels."

"Do you know Aaron Reiners?"

"Yeah." Zeke looked back at Ali, glaring at her, defiantly. "Yeah, he's a friend of mine."

XxxXXXxxx

_November 4th_

He squeezed her hand, trying to give her some of his strength, his faith. Trying to reassure her that this was almost over.

Finally, it was almost over.

It had been hard to see Reiner sitting there for three days, watching her, revelling in the despair and pain that he caused her. Revelling in the nightmares he had given her, revelling in the darkness.

He fought to control his anger. She didn't need him angry, she didn't need him to fight her battles for him. She needed him by her side, supporting her.

His mouth twisted in a sneer as he watched the defence lawyer lean over to confer with his client. Her first time in court in New York and she had to face James Sinclair.

Jim Steele stood up and faced the jury, adjusting the buttons on his perfect suit.

"The People call Detective Lindsay Munroe, of the New York Crime Lab."

**End of Chapter Nine.**

_Please Read and Review!_


	10. Chapter 10

-1Hey Guys,

Once again, a huge thank you to everybody that has read and reviewed so far. I really appreciate it.

**Chapter Ten**

_December 24th_

"So what did you get her for Christmas?"

Flack smiled, reaching into his coat, and pulled out a slim, narrow box. "I got her this." He flipped it open, studying it again for a second, before handing it across to Danny.

"Oh man." Danny lifted the necklace up carefully, holding it up to the light, letting the fine silver chain trickle through his fingers. "That's beautiful. You've got it bad."

He shrugged, not bothering to argue with him. "You think she'll like it?"

"She'll love it." Danny closed the box and handed it back to him. "Did your mother pick it?"

"My mother? What makes you think I didn't pick that myself?"

"Cos I've seen the sort of presents you've picked before."

"Like what?"

"Well there was that lab tech. What was her name? Samantha? What did you get her for her birthday again? Refresh my memory."

Flack shook his head, his cheeks colouring with embarrassment, lifting his drink. "Fuck you, man"

Danny laughed, enjoying his friend's discomfort. "I'm just saying, man…"

His phone rang, cutting Danny off like a knife. He fished it out of his pocket, staring at her number, illuminated on the screen. "It's Lindsay. I gotta take this."

Danny sipped his beer, waving his hand vaguely in the air. "Do what you gotta do, man."

Flack nodded, signalling at the bar man. "Two more." He pulled some money out of his pocket, dropping it on the bar. "Thanks, Danny." He clapped him on the shoulder, stepping away from the bar.

"Anytime. Oh and Flack?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell her we're going to nail this bastard."

XxxXXXxxx

"Look, Zeke, you're not in any trouble here." Hawkes spread his hands, keeping his voice soft and even. "We just want to ask you a few questions, that's all.

"About what?"

"About Aaron Reiners."

Zeke Michael's eyes darted between Hawkes and Ali, his mouth curling in a sneer. "What about him?"

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"A few days ago, at Rikers. I went to wish him a Merry Christmas."

Hawkes nodded, seeming to accept the answer at face value. "We're looking for a friend of Aarons, someone that shared his interests. Do you have any ideas who that could be?"

"No." His eyes fell on Ali, then flashed away, aggressively, nervously. Darting back to focus on her. Lingering.

"No drinking buddies or poker buddies? Anything like that?"

"Aaron wasn't like that…"

Ali's phone started to ring, sudden and loud, jarring through the conversation. "Excuse me a second." She pulled the phone from her pocket, turning away from them, conscious of Zeke Michaels staring at her.

"What was he like?" Hawkes tried to draw Zeke's attention away from Ali.

"Different." Zeke's mouth curled in a coldly, arrogant smile. "You wouldn't understand."

"Okay, I'll do that." Ali tucked the phone back in her pocket and turned around. "Mr Michaels, I'm going to have to ask you to come with us."

"What?"

"We're going to have to continue this chat down at our precinct house." Ali's cold smile was almost a match for the one that Mac wore when he closed in on a suspect. "We've got a few more questions for you."

XxxXXXxxx

_November 4th_

"Can you state your name and occupation for the record?"

"Detective Lindsay Munroe. I'm currently assigned to the Crime Lab, New York." She swallowed heavily, nervously, moistening her lips with a class of water.

"Have you ever seen the defendant before?"

"Yes. He was arrested on suspicion of murder."

"What evidence led to his arrest?"

"We found his fingerprints at the scene, left on a wall in blood."

"Who found that evidence?"

"I did."

"Who interviewed the defendant when he was arrested?"

"Detective Don Flack and Detective Ali Convery of NYPD Homicide."

"Did the defendant make a confession about the homicides?"

"Yes. He confessed to me."

"Thank you, Detective Munroe." Steele gave her a quick, encouraging smile as he turned away. "Your witness."

Lindsay sighed, reaching again for her glass of water, trying to ignore James Sinclair, adjusting his jacket as he stood up, trying to block out the courtroom, the jury, everything, just concentrate on what Steele had told her about Sinclair's tactics.

Trying to forget that Aaron Reiners had not taken his eyes off her since she had taken the stand.

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th 1400_

"I want to speak to my lawyer."

"He's on his way." Mac threw a folder down on the table, leaning across the table while Ali pulled out the other chair sitting down opposite Zeke. "We got a few more questions to ask you first."

"I aint saying nothing til my lawyer gets here." Zeke Michaels sat back in his chair, smirking at them. "I know my rights."

"Do you know Darren Mead?"

"Never heard of him."

"That's funny, Zeke." Mac opened the file, turning the page around, tapping his finger against a name on the page. "We ran his name through the computer, and he doesn't exist. No social security number. No employment record, No criminal record."

"So?"

"Darren Mead is also supposed to have visited Aaron Reiners several times in the last month."

"So?"

Ali leaned forward. "The last time he visited, Zeke, was a few days ago. The same day that you were supposed to have visited Aaron Reiners."

"And your name doesn't show up in the visitors log, Zeke. Anything you want to tell us?"

"Yeah." Zeke's smile was chillingly, coldly familiar. "I want my lawyer."

XxxXXXxxxx

_November 10th_

"All rise."

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honour."

"What say you?"

"In the matter of _State of New York versus Aaron Reiners_, we, the Jury find the defendant, Aaron Reiners, guilty as charged."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

He walked back to the bar, feeling better now that he had spoken to her, now that he knew she was okay. Tomorrow, tomorrow, he'd make everything up to her, he'd make sure that she had the sort of Christmas she deserved, the sort of Christmas that helped her forget about today.

He walked back to the bar, just as Danny hung up his phone, looking nervously, guiltily around.

"Who was on the phone?"

Danny flinched at the sound of his voice. "No one. Just my girlfriend, making sure that I was coming for dinner tomorrow."

Flack smiled, slipping back onto his stool. "Come on, Danny, I'm a cop and you're a lousy liar. Who was on the phone?"

"Stella."

"What did she want?"

"They've got somebody, a friend of Reiners. Ali and Mac are interrogating him now."

XxxXXXxxx

_November 15th_

"Linds?"

He walked through the apartment. "You hungry? I thought we might go out, maybe go to Nicos….Linds? What's wrong?"

She was sitting on the windowsill, staring out across the city, a letter clutched in her hand, crying.

"Linds?"

She shook her head, unable to speak, moving on the windowsill so he could sit behind her, wrap his arms around her, still clutching the letter. Leaning back in his embrace, her body shaking with the force of her tears. He could read some of the letter over her shoulder, the handwriting elegant, forceful.

Tearing into the page, tearing into her heart.

_Detective Munroe,_

_Can I call you Lindsay…_

**End of Chapter Ten**

_Please Read and Review_


	11. Chapter 11

Hey Guys,

Thanks again to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. None of my other stories have gotten anywhere near that many reviews or this much interest, so a huge thank you to everyone!

James Sinclair is an NYPD Blue character. I'm borrowing him again for this chapter.

**Chapter Eleven**

_December 24th 1500_

"I need that sample checked as soon as possible. Run it against the sample we took from the Lucy Carlson, and anything we got from the previous scenes. We get a match, maybe we got something we can use against this prick."

"You got it, Mac." Stella took the small package off him and walked off towards the lab.

"Where is he, Mac?" Flack burst through the doors of the Crime Lab, his face contorted with anger, Danny trailing in his wake. "Where is he? I want to talk to him."

"You cant be here, Don." Mac stepped into his path, gripping his upper arms. "You cant do this."

"I want to talk to him!"

"No."

"Get your hands off me, Mac."

"You gonna be cool? I let you go, you're not going to rush off and ruin this case, ruin this case that Lindsay's been putting herself through hell for?" Mac kept his grip on Flack's arms until he felt him relax.

"Okay." Mac stepped away, and Flack drew a shuddering breath, looking away from them all until he pulled himself together. "What's he given you so far?"

"Nothing, other than he wants to talk to his lawyer."

"Who's running the interrogation?"

"Me and Ali."

"Ali? She's a rookie. She's good, but she's a rookie. She doesn't know how to play creeps like this. You need Danny or Stella…" He shook his head, his anger returning, flaring back to the surface. "Dammit, Mac, you need me on this."

"No, I don't. I don't need this case blowing up in my face cos you lost control, Don. I'm running the interrogation, Ali's backing me up and you're not going anywhere near it."

"I just want to help, Mac."

He sounded so broken, so beaten, that Mac couldn't help but feel his heart clench in sympathy and pity. Danny, smiling sadly, remembering the time he'd been in the same position, when he'd said almost the exact same words to Mac, pleading with him.

Just because he was right didn't make it any easier to deal with.

"I know. Talk to the DA's office, whoever you can raise from there. Get a warrant for Zeke Michaels apartment. Then go and tear that place apart. You want to help, find me something I can use to nail this bastard."

xxxXXXxxx

The room was empty, quiet, giving her the chance to gather her thoughts.

She filled the sink with water, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She felt dirty, the evil, the sin, sinking into her, staining her soul.

How the hell had Lindsay been able to sit in a room with a man like that, listen to him, listen to his confession?

This guy was dirty. All her instincts screamed it at her. And she had been taught her to trust her instincts. All they had to do was prove it.

She cupped water in her hands, splashing the cold liquid onto her face. Mac was running the interrogation. All she had to do was back him up, ask the right questions, follow his lead.

She rubbed her face, trying to control her breathing, trying to control her nerves.

She couldn't screw this up. Lindsay deserved more, deserved better. She owed Flack more, owed him, owed them both for fucking up with the photos. She wanted to nail this bastard, just to make up for her own failings.

"Detective Convery?" The door of the bathroom knocked and opened slowly, a young lab tech taking a few tentative steps into the room.

"Yeah?"

"Detective Taylor sent me to find you. He's going back in to interrogate the suspect."

"I'll be right there."

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island_

She was exhausted now, stumbling through a haze of cigarette smoke, his words boring into her, draining her of her strength, her willpower. She could feel the smoke, the stain clinging to her skin.

All she wanted to do was go home. All she wanted was Don to put his arms around her, take away the memory of this day, this case.

"My turn, Lindsay."

There was a hint of laughter in his voice, amusement laced through it. She shook her head, struggling through the weariness. Sonofabitch was enjoying this, enjoying this sick game he had come up with to torment her.

He stared at her for a second, turning his lighter through his fingers. "Do your family know?"

"Know what?"

"That you've fallen in love with an NYPD detective? That as long as he's here, wherever he goes, you aint never going home to Montana." He giggled, taking another drag of his cigarette, blowing another smoke ring out into the haze surrounding them. "That they've lost their daughter."

"Fuck you, Aaron."

"Do they know, Lindsay?" He sat back, enjoying the anguish on her face, another weakness, another card to play against her.

"No."

"You haven't told them?"

"Is that another question, Aaron?"

"Fair enough." He smiled, gesturing with the cigarette pack. "Your turn."

XxxxXXXxxx

_November 30th_

"Hey, Lindsay, you want another drink?"

"Yeah." She lifted her drink, finishing off the last of the alcohol. She could feel the booze starting to work on her, her control starting to waver, unravel, her head starting to buzz with the effects.

How much had she had to drink?

She closed her eyes, shoulders shaking as the images, the memories, her imagination started to assault her.

How long did he keep them before he killed them?

What did he do to them?

How much did it hurt, when he used that knife, drawing it across their skin with exquisite slowness, tracing their pale skin with steel, watching their faces as they screamed, begging him for mercy.

The only mercy they would get is when he finally killed them.

She needed him. She needed him to take her, to hold her, to tell her everything was going to be okay. To make her feel safe.

Danny brushed against her, carefully carrying the drinks. "Here you go."

"Thanks, Danny." Lindsay lifted the drink, taking a long mouthful of it, her arm shaking as she lifted the glass.

"You okay?"

"Where's Don?"

"He had something to take care off." Danny nursed his drink, watching her closely. "Something to do with a case."

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island_

He stopped when they led him into the room, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You! I wasn't expecting to see you again."

Flack pointed at the chair on the other side of the table. "Sit down, Aaron." He waited until Aaron sat down, then took the other seat, Ali leaning against the back wall of the room, watching them intently.

"Mind if I smoke, Detective?"

"Yes."

"What do you want, Detective Flack?"

"I just wanted to tell you, that I'm going to make your life hell while you're in here." Flack leaned forward, leaning across the table. "Every guy in this place that owes me a favour, every guy that owes them a favour, I'm going to cash them in on your ass."

"You think I cant touch her from here, Detective Flack?"

The blood drained slowly from Flack's face. He stood up suddenly, knocking the table out of the way, reaching for Reiners, his hands closing around his throat, pushing him back across the room. "You keep your hands off her, you sick bastard!"

"Don!"

Ali's voice sank through the haze of anger, bringing him back to his senses. Slowly he released Aaron's throat and stepped away. The marks of his fingers showed up, vivid and red on the man's skin.

The sound of his laughter filled the silent room.

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"Do you know Lucy Carlson?"

"I'm not saying anything until my lawyer gets here."

Mac pushed a piece of paper across the table to Zeke Michaels. "You see we know you know Lucy Carlson."

"And how's that?" Zeke sat back in his chair, still smiling his smug arrogant smile, his arms folded across his chest.

"We took this sample from Lucy Carlson, after she was murdered." Mac tapped the page. "And this….this is your sample."

"And?"

"And the two match. We found your DNA on Lucy Carlson. You killed her."

"No I didn't."

"So how did your DNA get on her body, Zeke? You got an explanation for that?"

"I was sleeping with her."

The door of the interrogation room knocked and opened. Ali glanced over her shoulder and shook her head, throwing her pen on the table in disgust.

"Detective Taylor, Detective Convery." James Sinclair smiled his shark toothed smile and walked to the other side of the table. "Hello, Zeke." He sat down, still smiling arrogantly at the two detectives. "So where were we?"

XxxXXXxxx

_December 1st_

He watched her for a long time. Watching the way she moved, watching her, making sure she was perfect.

He watched say goodnight to her friends and walk away. She walked away, walking down a darkened street, away from the bright avenue lights. Away from her friends. Walking straight towards hell.

He smiled, savagely, like an animal, sliding out the knife. He hesitated for a second, imagining just how it would feel to cut her, to pull the blade through her flesh, to watch her bleed. To watch her die.

He followed after her.

**End of Chapter Eleven**

_Please Read And Review._


	12. Chapter 12

-1Hey Guys,

Thanks again to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. I think I'm into the final stretch of the story, not exactly sure how much is left, but I know I'm getting close to the end.

This'll be the last chapter for a couple of weeks, as I'm going on holidays. Hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter Twelve**

_December 24th_

"Start in the bathroom. Go through it with a fine tooth comb, anything you can find that we can use. Anything we can use to connect this bastard to the killings."

"You got it." Clutching his kit, Hawkes walked towards the bathroom. Walking carefully, on the tips of his feet, careful not to disturb anything.

"Where do you want me?

"Living room. His papers, his mail, his computer. Anything that shows he might have had communications with Aaron Reiners."

"What about you?"

"I'll take the rest." Flack glanced around the small, neat apartment, Spartan and clean, whitewashed. "From the looks of the things, this guy didn't spend too much time here."

"Probably spent most of his time consorting with serial killers and learning from them." Danny planted his hands on his hips, following his friends' gaze around the small room. "How's she doing?"

"Okay." Flack ran his hand through his hair, the movement taught with suppressed anger. "Sonofabitch ran out of cigarettes, wouldn't talk to her until he got some more." He ran his hand through his hair again. "She's doing okay. She'll be okay."

Spoken like a prayer, a sinners prayer on Christmas Eve, seeking reassurance.

"What about you?" Hands protected by his gloves, Danny lifted Zeke's mail, starting to sort through it, his eyes scanning the addresses, lingering briefly on the handwritten ones

"I'll feel better when this bastard is rotting in jail, then we can start to forget about this, put it all behind us."

He knew this was wishful thinking. Aaron Reiners would always linger between them, would always sour memories of their first Christmas together.

"Mac will break him."

"He's using Ali." Flack shook his head in frustration. "It should be me. I'd get it out of that smug bastard."

"She's good."

"She's a rookie."

"She's your rookie, Flack. She's learnt well. She knows to follow Mac's lead, let him set the pace." Danny went back to sorting through the mail. "If Zeke Michael's is trying to hide something, they'll get it out of him."

XxxXXXxxx

"Tells us about Aaron Reiners."

"You don't have to answer that, Zeke." James Sinclair leaned back in his chair, his sharp toothed smile draping across both Mac and Ali like a spring shower. "Really, Detectives, if you don't have anything better to link my client to this, maybe we should all just go home for Christmas. Maybe a drink or two will help you see things a little clearer."

"We've got plenty to link your client to these murders, Mr. Sinclair. We have his DNA on the victim we found this morning."

"I explained that." Zeke clenched his teeth, biting down hard against his bottom lip. "I was sleeping with her."

"You ever meet Laura Johnson?"

"Yes."

"Did she know you were sleeping with her roommate?"

"Of course she did."

"Did she?" Ali glanced at Mac, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "She never mentioned you when my partner and I spoke to her this morning. Why's that, do you think?"

Zeke stared at her, his eyes dark and burning, biting at his lip, his fingers curling against the surface of the table. She could see the darkness hovering around him, surrounding him, cloaking him, embracing him.

"Did you kill her, Zeke? Did you hunt her down like a hound, just like he taught you to?"

James Sinclair slammed his hand down on the table, breaking the stillness the connection between them. "This has gone far enough! Either charge my client, or we're walking out of here, right now."

Mac glanced briefly at Ali, then stood up. "We'll be in touch, Mr. Michaels."

Zeke smirked as he stood up. "Merry Christmas, Detectives."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 2nd_

This couldn't be happening…

"Who called it in?"

She should be listening, should be paying attention, should be concentrating. This was important. She should be listening. She owed the victim that much.

This couldn't be happening. Not again.

Ali's voice passed by her in a daze, her attention focused on the victim. Staring up at her, with those sightless, judging eyes. 'You let this happen. You. You locked him away, promised yourself that you could keep me safe. You let this happen. You let me believe I was safe.'

'This is your fault.'

Everything was the same.

'Your fault.'

He had taken his time with this one. Enjoyed himself. She could tell by the cuts, crisscrossing the girls body, the agonised expression twisted on her face, the silent scream cutting through the still December air.

She had died in agony.

Her fault.

"I thought…." Her voice faint, weak, barely a whisper.

"You okay, Lindsay?"

The scene spun and twisted in front of her eyes, her stomach clenching, heaving, her vision edged with blood, wavering and spilling. The world seeming to twist, fade away, the sound of his laughter chasing her through her own nightmares to find her.

The world spun and she fell into darkness.

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th 1600_

"What the hell is going on here?"

James Sinclair moved smoothly to stand in front of his client. "Detective Flack. I presume you have a warrant for this. Otherwise, your lieutenant is going to get a very unpleasant Christmas present."

"Of course I've got a warrant." Flack reached into his pocket and pulled out the document. "You don't think I'd give you any more of a chance to get one of your clients a walk, do you?"

Zeke Michaels recovered quickly from his surprise. He started to laugh, walking through the mess they had made of his apartment to sit on his couch. "Oh let them look, James. It makes them feel important and it gives them something to do. I have nothing to hide."

"Have you found anything yet, Detective Flack?"

Flack didn't answer, staring at the lawyer. He raised his voice. "Hawkes?"

"Yeah?"

"You got anything in there?"

"No. It's clean."

He sighed heavily, glancing at Danny, who shook his head. "Pack it up. We're done here. If there was anything here, we'd have found it by now." He spun quickly, pointing an angry, accusing finger at Zeke Michaels. "Don't go anywhere, scumbag."

"Detective Flack…."

Zeke raised his chin, still smiling smugly, arrogantly. Innocently. "Merry Christmas, Detective Flack." He tilted an imaginary glass towards him. "And to the lovely Detective Munroe."

Flack took half a step towards him, face contorted, fists tightening in anger. Zeke, still sitting on the couch, still smiling, still goading him on.

Danny put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Come on, buddy. Lets go."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 2nd_

He ran his hand across the edge of his knife, savouring the sharpness of the blade. He watched as it split the flesh, watched as dark red blood swam across the edge from his hand. Idly he turned it one way, then the other, watching as it spilled slowly, drop by drop.

He wondered how she had felt as the blade had ran across her flesh. The same sensation, the same feeling, the same…

Did Aaron have the same rush, when he stared down at them, looked down into their frightened eyes?

How did _she _feel?

Knowing, that after the hell she had put herself through to catch Aaron Reiners, that she had to do it all again? How did _she _feel, when they found that body, arranged, just as Aaron would have done it, marked with the same slow, exquisite tenderness?

Did her heart break?

Did her soul break, just a little bit more?

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"Dammit! We had him. If that sonofabitch Sinclair had just been a bit later…."

"We had him." Mac nodded in agreement. "And we'll have him again. He's not like Reiners. Reiners wanted to torment Lindsay. That was his game. This guy….this guy likes to boast. He likes to take chances."

"He left the DNA for us to find, threw out that piece of shit story." Ali shook her head, tired, frustrated. "He's taunting us."

"But he left us a trail to follow. He said he was sleeping with Lucy Carlson. Go back to the flatmate. Talk to her, talk to all of her friends. See if this story is bullshit. If it is, we can bring him back in." His eyes flashed in grim amusement. "Lets see if he can talk his way out of that."

"You got it, Mac."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 2nd_

"How is she?"

"She fainted at the scene. I sent her home."

"Did you tell Don?"

"Of course I told him. What was I supposed to do? Keep it quiet? I couldn't do that to him, Stella. He needed to know. He's the one that has to put the pieces back together."

"She put herself through so much to catch Reiners. And now this, coming so quick on his heels." Stella shook her head, her curly hair bouncing around her shoulders, oddly lifeless. "We have to catch him soon, Mac."

"I know."

**End of Chapter Twelve**

_Please, Read And Review!_


	13. Chapter 13

-1Hey Guys,

I'm back!

A huge thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. There's only two or so chapters left in this story, so the end is definitely in sight! Once again, thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story from the start.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_December 24th 1700_

"Taylor."

"Mac, its Ali. I just finished talking to Lucy Carlson's friends. All the ones her flatmate knew anyway."

"And?"

"None of them have heard of Zeke Michaels." She shivered, suddenly, as the cold December wind whipped through her overcoat, cutting through her like a knife. "None of them know him."

"Did you show them his photo?" Mac's voice was as cold as the wind, as cold and as pragmatic as they needed to be. Anger wouldn't help them close this case.

"Of course I showed them the photo! None of them recognized him either. They've never seen her with him, never seen him before."

"So we know he lied to us about his relationship with the victim. That's good. Gives us something we can use against him."

Ali closed her eyes, breathing heavily, expelling her anger out into the chill of the early evening air. She needed to be calm, needed to be in control, if they were going to put an end to Lindsay's nightmare.

He'd already used their anger against them once. Him and Aaron Reiners, still pulling the strings from his cell on Rikers Island.

Maybe Flack and Danny should….

'Control, Ali. Control.'

"We had him, Mac."

"I know."

"We had him and we let him go."

"I know. And we'll get him again. But this time, we'll be ready for him. He wont slip through our fingers again."

She recognized the emotion in his voice, wondered who he was making that promise to.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come back to the Lab. I got Stella running Zeke through the system. If we're going after him, I want all the weapons I can get. I don't want James Sinclair to slip him away again."

She nodded, knowing it was a wasted, useless gesture. "I'm on my way back now."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 2nd_

"What have we got?"

"Stabbing victim, found early this morning." Mac glanced quickly, dispassionately at the body. "Same MO as the Reiner's killings."

Danny's eyes widened in surprise. "Sonofabitch. How's Lindsay?"

"Not good." Mac's face was still expressionless, a single muscle dancing beneath his eye, the only sign of his concern. "I sent her home. She fainted at the crime scene."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Process the victim. Make sure for her sake, that it's a copycat, and this bastard hasn't been fucking around with her the whole time."

"Do you think it's a copycat?"

Mac hesitated, almost ready to speak, then stopped himself, shaking his head. "Just process the evidence, Danny, see where that leads us."

"Jesus, Mac!" Danny shook his head in frustration. "I'm not asking you for something that'll hold up in court. I just wanna know. Do you think she made a mistake?"

"Just do your job."

"You don't give a fuck what she's going through? Or what Flack's going through? You're one cold hearted bastard, Mac, you know that?"

"Of course I give a fuck, Danny!" His own voice had risen with his sudden rush of anger. "That's why this has to be right. That's why there cant be any fuck ups, there cant be any mistakes. There cant be anything for that bastard to crawl through."

Dimly they became aware that they were both shouting, voices echoing around the lab.

"Okay." As suddenly as it came, the anger drained away from Danny. "Okay. I'll get on it now." Mac stared at him for a second, then nodded and started to walk off. "Mac. Wait. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too." Mac smiled, one of his rare grins, and gestured at the evidence. "Get to work, Danny. Find me a killer."

xxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"You get anything from the search?"

Flack shook his head, his shoulders still taught with anger. "Nothing. Place was cleaner than a whistle. What about the interview?"

"Not much. He claimed to have had a relationship with Lucy Carlson, but none of her friends know him. I thought he might have been opening up, but James Sinclair shut us down."

"Sonofabitch." Flack sank into one of the chairs, resting his aching head in his hands. "Sonofabtich is going to get away with this."

"He's not going to get away with this."

"We've got nothing on him."

"We know he lied about the relationship. We got DNA to put him at the scene. We're going to get him." Ali hesitated for a second, putting her hand on one of Flack's hunched shoulders. "How's Lindsay doing?"

He bit back on a bitter laugh. "She thinks we're going to get this guy. She thinks she's putting herself through meeting with that bastard and that it's going to lead somewhere."

Mac walked into the room, talking with Stella, followed closely by Danny and Hawkes. All of them looked tired, worn, drained, pushed too far and too hard by this case.

"Zeke Michaels is in the system."

Flack's head shot up from his hands. "What?"

Stella nodded. "Two counts of serious assault, one count of assault. Nothing came to trial, all of the victims withdrew their complaints. Last serious assault was in the middle of November."

"What happened?"

"He went after a girl with a knife outside a bar on Broadway. She was a tourist, wasn't able to press charges. Get this, though. She's five three, slight build, shoulder length dark blond hair. Sound like anyone we know?"

"Bastard. Reiners was testing him." Flack bounced to his feet, his eyes glowing with a fierce hunting light. "We got to pick him up, Mac. Between that and the DNA and the…." He waved his hand vaguely in the air. "We got enough."

Mac nodded. "I agree. Take Danny and go pick him up. Do what you can to delay Sinclair. Hawkes, I need you to cover for others, pick up the slack. Are you okay with that?"

Hawkes nodded. "Sure thing, Mac."

"Ask Adam for help if you need it." Mac looked up at the rest of the team. "Stella, I want you an Ali to prep an interrogation pack for Zeke Michaels." His voice was cold and flat. "I don't want him to slip away again."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 3rd 0200_

"Linds?"

Flack walked quickly through the apartment. Not moving with his usual care when he came home after working a late. Not caring if he woke her. He wanted to wake her. He wanted to see her, to hold to her, to reassure himself that she was okay.

Through the living room door, he could hear the sound of her sobbing, tearing through him like a knife.

"Linds?"

He went to her quickly, wrapping his arms around her small body, holding her as she cried.

She twisted in his embrace, pressing herself against his body, seeking what comfort, what salvation she could find. "I'm so sorry, Don."

Was that smoke she could smell, clinging to her, clinging to him?

"What for?" He ran his hand down her back, trying to soothe her, his shirt already stained and marked with her tears.

"At the scene today…I fell apart…"

"It's okay, Linds." He pulled her close, wrapping his arms as tightly as he could around her. Wishing that he could protect her from the demons in her head. "It's okay."

"I thought it would be okay. I mean, Christ, I'm a CSI. I should be able to deal with that!" She smiled, almost laughing, bitter and fragile through her tears. "But he did that girl in the same way, Don."

"I know."

"Same weapon, same MO."

"I know."

"Did I get it wrong, Don? Did I make a mistake? Did I put the wrong guy away, Don? Sweet Jesus, did I put the wrong guy away?"

"No…."

"I see them Don! Every time I close my eyes, every time I try to sleep, I see those girls. I see them, dying in agony, blaming me for not catching this guy…"

He put his finger across her lips, silencing her. "You cant do this to yourself, Linds. Danny worked the scene, he's sure it's a copycat." He kissed her, wishing he could take away the darkness, take away her despair.

"Please, Don…"

"Please what?" His lips against her skin. She smelled of roses and shampoo, her hair and skin still damp from the shower.

"Help me forget about him. Just for tonight, help me forget about him."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th_

"…trained him." Aaron lit another cigarette, smiling at her horrified face. "You should be honoured Detective Munroe, Lindsay. I didn't send just any rookie out to continue the game."

"You trained him? Tested him?"

"Is that another question?" Aaron cut across her attempted interruption, waving his cigarette in the air. "Doesn't matter, I'll answer it anyway. Yes, I trained him. Set him tests, tasks he had to complete before he could move on."

"For how long?"

"Ah ah ah, Lindsay." He smiled mockingly, taking another drag from his cigarette. "My turn."

"Okay." She filed the question away, blinking, trying to focus through the haze of smoke.

"Does he know?"

"Does he know what?"

"Detective Don Flack. Does he know that you're not just fucking him." He grinned at the faint blush staining her cheeks. "Does he know that you're in love with him?"

'Damn him'

"No, he doesn't."

"You haven't told him yet?"

"No."

"When were you going to?"

"Tomorrow." She sighed, heavily, blinking back the first tears not caused by the heavy smoke. "I was going to tell him tomorrow."

**End of Chapter Thirteen**

_Please, Read and Review!_


	14. Chapter 14

-1Hey guys,

Thank you again to every one that has read and reviewed so far. I really do appreciate all your kind words and comments. The end is in sight. This is the penultimate chapter, and it's a bit longer than usual! A feature length finale!

Hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter Fourteen**

_December 24th_

The smile drained quickly from his face when he opened the door. "You again. What the hell do you want this time?"

"Zeke Michaels." Flack fought hard to keep the hungry smile off his face. "I'm gong to have to ask you to come with us."

"No." Zeke shook his head, started to slam the door.

Danny moved quickly to slip his foot into the gap, wincing as the heavy door collided with it, trapping it against the door frame, sending a shock of pain up his leg. "I'm afraid we must insist, Mr Michaels. We got a few more questions for you."

"No. I've already spent most of the afternoon down there, answering your questions. It's Christmas Eve, for God's sake. Don't you people have anything else to do?"

"We realise that, sir." Flack kept his voice calm and even. "This wont take long."

Zeke stared at them for an instant, his eyes flicking back and forth between them, wide and panicked. "No. I'm not going anywhere without speaking to my lawyer."

"Mr. Michaels…"

"You can't victimise me like this!" He snatched up the cordless phone, brandishing it at them like a knife, his voice shaking with anger. "You can't do it!"

"Mr Michaels…." Flack took a careful step into the apartment, grateful for Danny's presence, just behind him. He pushed his jacket back, off his hip, easing a hand onto his pistol. "Mr Michaels, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down."

"Don't you tell me to calm down, Detective Flack!" Michael's voice rose again, high and shaking. "Don't you fucking dare! I'm going to have your fucking badge!"

"Is that right?" Flack took a step towards Michaels, keeping his attention focused on him. Hoping that Danny was reading the play. Just for a second, he wished that it was Ali, backing him up.

"I'm going to hang you out to…"

Danny hit him hard from the side, knocking him into the wall, knocking the phone from his grasp, sending it flying across the floor towards Flack. Quickly, he kicked it away, knocking it out of sight beneath one of the chairs.

"Bastard!" Michaels fought like an eel, squirming in Danny's grip. He twisted free, slamming his fist hard into Danny's jaw.

"Sonofa…" Just for that instant, his grip failed and he swayed on his feet, his mouth filled with the taste of copper. Desperately, he grabbed for Michaels, desperate to hang onto him.

…almost free….almost gone…

Flack slammed him back against the wall, resting his elbow against the back of Michael's neck. "Real fucking smart, Zeke. You just assaulted a cop."

"I want my lawyer!"

"Yeah?" Flack held him in place while Danny cuffed him. "You can call him from our station house. Lets go, scumbag."

"Sonofabitch." Danny grimaced in pain, rubbing his hand against his jaw as Flack manoeuvred Zeke towards the door.

"Could have been worse, Danny. He could have tried to run."

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island_

She was starting to feel like she was the one in prison. Locked away with Aaron Reiners as her jailer, as her constant torment.

Guilty of failure.

"Your turn, Lindsay." He sat back, blowing another mouthful of smoke out into the room.

She closed her eyes, trying to think through the haze, through the smog. Through her fatigue. Trying to remember the question she wanted to ask.

Even with her eyes closed, she could imagine _his_, cold and cruel, burning above that malignant smile.

"How long were you preparing him?"

Still grinning, he took another drag on his cigarette, stubbing it out in the overflowing ashtray, his fingers stained with nicotine and blood. "Since October, Lindsay."

"October?"

He nodded. "I knew you'd catch me, sooner or later. He had to be ready." He leaned across the table, as close to her as he had ever been.

Close enough to touch her.

Aaron reached out a hand, running it softly, gently down the side of her face, caressing her like a lover.

"Does he touch you like this, Lindsay?"

His voice was a whisper, his breath hot against her cold skin, his touch so gentle that she could almost forget….

Except for his eyes.

Watching her, judging her reaction.

All part of his fucked up game.

She jerked away from him. "Don't touch me, Aaron." She drew a ragged breath, her nerves worn and taught. Fighting to control her racing heart. "Don't ever touch me again." Her hands shook and she folded her arms hastily, hiding them from his sight. "Is that your question, Aaron? Does he touch me like that?"

Aaron nodded, still watching her face. Still judging her reaction.

"Yes he does. Every time he sees me. Every time he kisses me. His touch is clean, though, Aaron. His touch doesn't make me want to stand in a shower and scrub my skin clean of him." Her voice shook and she fought for control. "Does that answer your question, Aaron?"

Still smiling, he nodded, chewing on a fingernail. "Your turn, Lindsay."

The room span, hazy and stinking of cigarettes and death, staining her skin and her soul, clogging her senses and her brain. Thinking of questions, rejecting questions, trying to guess which ones he would answer, which ones he would turn back on her.

Which ones he would use to cut her.

XxxXXXxxx

_December 24th, 1830_

"We need these packs quickly, Ali. We wont have much time before Sinclair gets here. Mac's going to have to break him quickly."

"What do we need?"

"Physical evidence. The DNA. Anything that connects Zeke to either the victims or Aaron Reiners." Stella paused, glancing at the young detective. "You've never put one of these together."

"No, Flack and me, we always sort of played off each other. Read the perp, gave him enough rope, put some pressure on him, see if he made a mistake."

"Works sometimes." Stella smiled slightly, sadly. "But it didn't work with Zeke Michaels, did it?"

"No."

"We've got one more shot at this. We don't get him this time, James Sinclair is going to slap us down so hard our ears are still going to be ringing at New Year. Gut instincts are all well and good, and you've got good instincts. But Mac's a scientist. Sometimes you need more than just instinct."

"Is that why he cut me out?"

"Maybe." Stella shrugged. "Mac plays his cards close to his chest. Always has. I'll bet you he's got something in mind. One last play, if we need it."

"Detectives."

They both looked around to see Adam, standing at the door. "They're back."

XxxXXXxxx

"I want his badge."

Flack smirked, and slumped in the seat opposite him, resting his arms on the table, putting Michaels within easy reach.

"Shut up." Mac stayed standing, looming over them both. He reached into the pack and threw a photo onto the table. "Tell me about her."

Zeke shook his head. "I got nothing to say until Mr Sinclair gets here and I walk out of here."

"You aint going nowhere, Zeke."

"I'll be home for Christmas."

"You aint going nowhere, Zeke." Flack leaned across the table, fixing the suspect with cold blue eyes. "Don't you get it? You assaulted a cop. We got you for that."

"We got you for that and that gives us time, Zeke. Time to get what we need to link you to the killings. Sinclair isn't going to be able to get you out of this."

He studied them for a minute, then backed away from them, retreating, slamming up the wall and the defences. "I want my lawyer."

Mac threw another photo on the table. "Your first victim, Zeke. Tell me about her."

"The only way you're dodging a needle, Zeke, is to get in front of this now. Confess. Show some remorse. Give those families some peace."

Zeke drew in a hissing breath, flinching away from the photo. He shook his head, trying to deny the image burnt into the paper, searing into his brain. "No. I want my lawyer."

Mac stared at him for a second, thoughts flicking rapidly across his face. "Excuse me for a minute."

"Oh don't worry." Flack tossed him an amused grin. "Me and Zeke here, we're not going anywhere."

XxxXXXxxx

He pulled the door of the room closed behind him, his face drawn and worried in the harsh light. "Ali."

"Yeah?"

He handed her the interrogation pack. "Go and talk to Zeke See what else you can get from him. See if you can break him."

"Okay."

Mac walked over to the window, as she walked into the room, leaning tiredly against the wall, his attention fixed on Zeke and his reaction to her arrival.

"You sure about this, Mac?" Stella didn't look at him as she spoke. She was tired as well, her features pinched and wane. She should have gone home, her shift long over, but she wanted to stay for the final play.

"Yeah." He nodded towards Zeke, his demeanour changing with Ali's arrival, his shoulders, his posture opening, twisting in his chair to face her. "He doesn't know how to deal with her. She unsettles him, knocks him off balance. We have a better chance with her and Flack."

"You hope."

"I pray."

"How much time do we have before Sinclair gets here?"

He glanced at his watch, then deliberately tugged the cuff of his shirt across its face. "Little over half an hour."

"Not much time."

"Enough."

XxxXXXxxx

_Rikers Island_

"My turn, Lindsay."

She nodded, her breathing tired, ragged. She rubbed wearily at her eyes, stung painfully by the harsh cigarette smoke. How long had she been in here? Playing this game with this man, this killer, this monster, this devil?

Was she dead? Trapped in hell with this torment for her failures.

How much longer could he make this game last? How much longer could he twist the knife in her wounds?

She flinched at her own thoughts.

"When did you know, Lindsay?"

"When did I know what?" Her vice was dull, worn, stripped bare of strength and defiance.

"When did you know that this wasn't a normal case?" He tapped his forefinger against his temple. "When did you know that I was in here?"

"The third one."

"Why her?"

"I realised then that she looked like me, that they all looked like me." Her voice sank to a whisper. "I realised then I'd failed her."

"But you caught me." His voice twisted, bleeding with laugher, mocking her earlier courage, her earlier bravado.

"Not in time."

"No. Never in time." He leaned back, lighting another cigarette, lost in the harsh haze of scented smoke. "I remember her, Lindsay. I remember her in my dreams."

He moved suddenly, pinning her in place with his eyes.

Unconsciously she tried to back away, caught and held by a killers eyes.

"She begged, Lindsay."

..helpless, pinned on the board, his sharp words, opening wounds she had tried to hide…

"Screamed."

…every word, cutting, tearing into her….

"Pleaded with me."

…she flinched, the knife slipping deep into her soul, as deep as it had slipped into their flesh, tearing the same jagged, painful wounds….

"I still hear her scream, Lindsay. I hear her scream, when I sleep and I wake up smiling."

"Beg me, Lindsay. You want his name? Beg me for it."

She stared at him, raw and open, tears falling like drops of blood down her cheeks. "Please, Aaron. Please. I need to know…." Her voice caught, drowned and lost.

Broken.

He laughed, and stood, walking through the smoke to the door. He slammed his hand against it, the sound sudden and jarring. "Open up." He glanced back at her over his shoulder, his eyes burning with laughter and contempt. "We're done here."

""Please, Aaron. You've won. You want me to beg, I'll beg. Please, tell me his name."

He stared at her as the door opened, lingering in the doorway, haloed in smoke and darkness. "Zeke Michaels."

He stepped through the door, into the darkness.

XxxXXXxxx

"Tell me about her."

Zeke glanced at Ali, then back at Flack, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm not saying anything until my lawyer gets here. Where is he?"

Flack smiled. "He's on his way." He tapped his finger against the photo. "Why don't you pass the time by telling us about her?"

"Lucy Carlson."

"I already told you. I was sleeping with her."

"We know that's not true, Zeke." Ali kept her voice soft and even, making sure she kept eye contact with him, not letting him escape. "None of her friends know about you. Why is that, do you think?"

"We had just started…"

"Your DNA puts you at the scene, Zeke." She kept picking away, working away at his composure, at his story. "We know you weren't dating her."

"This is your last chance."

"I cant."

"You're looking at a death sentence, Zeke."

"You think that James Sinclair's going to be able to sell the same snake oil twice? You think Aaron Reiners is going to shed any tears when they slide that needle into your arm?"

"Get in front of this, Zeke. Maybe then we can talk to the DA, tell him you showed remorse. Maybe we can talk to him about not going for the death sentence."

His features changed, turning sleek, cunning, desperate. "If I confess, you'll take the death sentence off the table?" For the first time his eyes sought out Ali, desperate, searching, seeking for some form of salvation. "Can you promise me that, Detective Convery? Can you promise me you wont let them kill me?"

She felt Flack's knee press against her thigh, saw his nod out of the corner of her eye. She nodded, swallowing the revulsion that threatened to spill out of her.

"You promise? Your word on that?"

"My word on that."

"It wasn't me that took them. It was what Aaron Reiners made me."

"And what did he make you?"

His eyes gleamed, locked onto her face, dark and frightening in the artificial light, his teeth white and stained with blood. "A hellhound."

**End of Chapter Fourteen**

_Just one more chapter to go! Please, read and review!_


	15. Epilogue

-1**Epilogue**

_December 25th 0001_

She sat on the window sill, wrapped in a blanket, watching the snow fall across the darkened city, the bells chiming as they rang out a new day.

A new day.

Christmas Day.

Lindsay shivered, clutching the blanket tightly around her slender shoulders. She rested her forehead against the window, welcoming the sudden clean bite of cold from the glass.

She needed to feel clean.

An hour in a scalding hot shower hadn't taken the taint of smoke from her skin. She could still smell it, clinging to her body, could still taste in the back of her throat.

She wondered if she would ever be clean again.

XxxXXXxxx

_1st September_

"Detective Munroe."

"Detective Flack." She smiled at him as she closed her locker door. "What are you doing here? I thought your shift ended over an hour ago."

"It did."

Lindsay laughed. "Shouldn't you be out, showing someone a good time, then? What are you still doing here, Detective?"

"Waiting for you."

XxxXXXxxx

_December 25th_

He startled her when he slid onto the window sill behind her, his arms around her, pulling her body back against his. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." She nodded towards the window, at the view of the city through the fogged and snow kissed pane. "Isnt the city beautiful?"

"Yeah." He shivered, adjusting the blanket so it covered them both. "Fucking cold though."

"I like the cold. Makes me feel clean."

"Come back to bed."

"In a while." She rested her head against his chest. "Anyway, it's Christmas morning, Don. Didn't you always want to stay up as late as you could at Christmas?"

"Yeah, when I was a kid, I never could sleep on Christmas Eve."

"Nor me." He felt her smile against his chest. "Mom always threatened that she would tell Santa to go away again if we dared come down the stairs before she called us."

He kissed her head through her hair.

"I need to sleep, Don." She squeezed her eyes closed, frightened to look at him, scared that she would see Reiner's contempt mirrored in his eyes. "I need to sleep, but he's there, he's…"

"Go to sleep, Linds." His kissed her hair again. "Go to sleep, I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

She settled against his chest, her breathing slow and even, senses filled with him, with the smell of his cologne.

She needed something to take away the smell of smoke.

**The End**

_And that's it folks!_

_Thank you so much to everyone that has read and reviewed and stuck with this story from the start. It's been a lot of fun writing it and I really hope you've all enjoyed it._

_Thanks again._


End file.
